


The Deal

by StarCrossedWriter



Category: Labyrinth (1986), Labyrinth (1986) RPF
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Jareth/Sarah Physical Relationship, Non-Graphic Steamy Scenes, Not intended to be smut, Original Villains, Science and Magic, Strong Female Character!, not smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCrossedWriter/pseuds/StarCrossedWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be - take this bad dating streak of mine far away from me!" After romantic failure and isolation, Sarah Williams is perfectly fed up with her bad luck. In a moment of bitterness, she says her Words... and in a subsequent moment of insanity, decides to act as a woman who knows what she wants.<br/>Sarah Williams propositions the Goblin King.<br/>The resulting deal becomes more than either of them bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Peachy

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This is not a smutfic. It will include steamy scenes, but nothing graphic. The inspiration behind this plot came to me one night after reading Labyrinth Fanfic. The stories were good, but I was getting tired of the whole "Goblin King needs to win Sarah over because she doesn't know if she can trust him with her feelings" plot device. In this version, Sarah doesn't want to trust him with her feelings, and is more than OK with a purely physical relationship. Or so it seems.

"I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say" –  _Rebecca,_ Daphne du Maurier

 

Thirteen.

Thirteen clumsy introductions and awkward set-ups.

Thirteen too-big, fake smiles covering up impersonal once-overs that made her want to wave some Female Equality pamphlets in their faces.

Thirteen forced dinners full to the brim of fantastically dull small talk.

Thirteen equally clumsy and awkward goodbyes as her hopes of something more  _gratifying_ were crushed by the inept and, sometimes, disgustingly eager and sloppy attempts at anything remotely physical.

Sarah Williams groaned into her hands as she trudged back to her lonely little apartment close to university. She had just recently managed to botch her thirteenth first-date in as many weeks.

Despairingly, she crossed her arms and glared at the sludgy snow beneath her sensibly heeled boots. Was she truly asking for so much? Were her expectations too high? It was not as though she wanted a long-term relationship – Heavens knew she had had enough of  _That._ The only thing that could come of  _That_ were hurt screaming matches, nights crying all alone, wishing (but not really 'wishing', of course, because wishes are dangerous) she was someone else,  _anyone_ else –

No. Let us stay off that train of thought. Back to the point, Sarah.

The point was that she really just wanted someone who appealed to her physically. Three months after… _That_ had happened, and Sarah had begun to notice the absence of something much more compelling than the emotional ordeal. This was, of course, the physical ordeal, or  _lack_ thereof. Now, thirteen weeks after this realization, and she had still not been physically intimate with another human being.

The result was that Sarah Williams was incredibly sexually frustrated.

The first few weeks, she had been set up with guys through sympathetic girlfriends... her expectations had been higher then, and none of them had made the cut. Number One had horrendously bad breath, and she had recommended him to an orthodontist with serious concern. Number Two had made no effort to hide the fact that he was not only ogling _her_ breasts, but those of  _every female_ within a five meter radius. She actually  _had_ handed him an Female Equality pamphlet then, and he had given her this kind of knowing look and she never saw him again. Number Three had been nice, and his physique had certainly been appealing - the only problem was, he seemed to be all-too-aware of that fact. In the three hours she had spent with him, she had become intimately acquainted with his workout routines, what muscles he focused on for which days, and had learned  _far_ too much information about his personal trainer. They never went out for a second date. A week later, she heard from the friend who had introduced them that he was newly engaged to aforementioned personal trainer. Sarah had not been surprised. 

Number Four had written her poetry, which was nice for a while. He soon told her that he could no longer see her, because he needed to sever all earthly connections in his journey to 'see beyond the veil'... whatever that meant. They were actually still on friendly terms, and he still sent her poems occasionally. Number Five had been... a bit too enthusiastic. She was forced to change her lock and alert her landlady when once she had come home to see him in her kitchen, chopping up a very large piece of meat "for dinner, sweetheart" with a very large butcher's knife. Sarah did not own any butcher's knives. She also had not given him a key. 

Once  _that_ supply ran out, she briefly tried online searching - that had lasted for the next two weeks, and she vowed never to try such again. Numbers Six had turned out to be a balding, pot-bellied man who was going through a mid-life crisis and had ended up crying into her shoulder for an hour because his wife was leaving him. Number Seven was, conversely, actually a seventeen-year old, and she ended up taking him to a movie and driving him back to his parents' house. She had made sure to inform them that their very-under-aged son was peddling himself on the internet as a twenty-five year old track star. 

This had put her somewhere around the seventh week of Disaster Dating. Trying to keep an upbeat look on things, she decided to try speed dating for four weeks after  _that -_ only two of them had stuck around for more than coffee, and the two that  _did_ were repugnant. Numbers Eight and Ten mostly wanted someone to chat with about their political and environmental views in their preferred 'hipster' cafes. Number Nine had simply been an insufferable, sexist ass, and Number Eleven spent two solid hours making increasingly unhealthy comparisons between her and his mother.

Last week had been the closest Sarah had gotten to her goal - but then it was discovered that Number Twelve was just trying to make his on-and-off girlfriend jealous, and she had dropped  _that_ like a Fiery's head.

The college student shook her head and huffed irritably. Sarah was having a hard time not taking this little 'bad luck streak' too personally. Who could  _possibly_ have thirteen dates in as many weeks and strike out on  _every single one!?_

This most recent debacle that had the misfortune to be named 'date' had been the last push required to take Sarah from 'Searching' to 'Desperate'. The man had been a blind date – perhaps one of her less inspired ideas, but she had been grasping at straws. They had agreed to meet at a quaint little diner near her home, so that Sarah could walk without having to give him her address to pick her up. She had learned  _that_ lesson after Number Five, whom she had since issued a restraining order against.

Once there, she looked for the man in the 'brown tweed jacket'. Really, the clothing choice should have been her first tip. The poor man had a round, kid-like face and watery blue eyes behind a pair of thick, circular plastic spectacles. His hair was, in contrast to his otherwise childish features and button nose, thinning unattractively and stuck out at odd angles around his temples. Number Thirteen was a Biology major, and enjoyed talking about the anatomical technicalities of fruit, which Sarah had learned after he launched into a discussion about how the orange she was eating was, in fact, the ovary of a plant. Sarah shuddered.

He was nice, and had offered dutifully to pay for the bill, but Sarah had refused and suggested that they split it. She did not want herself to be in his debt in any way – she had learned  _that_ lesson after Number 9, who had tried to force himself on her with the guilt of his  _generosity_ hanging over her head. She had told him what she thought of his generosity – forcefully, and with her knee – and had left him cupping the family jewels with a twenty dollar bill. ("I'll be  _generous,"_  she had said. "Keep the change.")

Yes, Number Thirteen had certainly been  _nice,_ in a vaguely endearing kind of way, but Sarah was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she did not want  _nice_ anymore. She wanted _chemistry._ Unfortunately for her, the only chemistry that she got came from her textbooks, whose equations did not result in steamy trysts or toe-curling orgasms. Go figure.

Sarah turned the corner on the lonely sidewalk of Urbana, Illinois' little college town of roughly 40,000 people. She smirked secretly to herself when she pondered what her fifteen-year-old self might think of her. No rise to stardom, no running off to Hollywood, not even so much as one lousy spot in a children's play since that life-changing night. The Labyrinth had truly turned Sarah into a new person. After the heady glow of triumph had worn off and she had celebrated with her new friends, she had found that the little switch in her brain had been irreversibly turned from 'Theatric' to 'Realistic'. She held no regrets. The Labyrinth had shown her how full of color, life, and vibrancy the real world could be, without her running off to the drama department to bury her head in the metaphorical sand of some dream-fulfilling play script.

She never lost her love of literature, though, not ever. In fact, it seemed to have only increased with her new drive to analyze the world, to see what made certain people tick. The written word, she had found, was a window into someone else's mind, and she cherished that connection. If she was honest with herself, it was only the comforting words of centuries of cultured writers that had anchored her through her ever-changing college life. That, and chemistry.

Oh yes, chemistry. Fifteen-year-old Sarah would have gagged at the penchant she now had for science, but that had been before high school. Once she took her first introductory chemistry class in her sophomore year, she was hooked. Something about the way chemicals, both pure elements and compounds, could react to each other the same way every time, could form new substances, could attract and repel each other was alluring and, sometimes, even exhilarating. She could find the poetry in chemistry, and the chemistry in literature. They were the two great loves in her life.

 _The only two loves in my life_ , Sarah scowled as she shuffled her feet morosely. Literature and chemistry were great and all, but unless one was willing to get  _really_ creative, they could do very little as far as physical satisfaction went. Lord Byron could stoke the flames of passion, but he certainly did not do her much good as words stuck to a page.

 _Thirteen weeks,_ she pondered. A little more than three months, but thirteen weeks made it sound more accurately long and painful. There was something significant about that fateful, unlucky number. For all the good it had done her, it might as well have been thirteen hours.

Sarah grimaced as the train of thought led her down memory lane. There had been a time when thirteen hours had seemed terrifyingly short. Now all Sarah could think of was how  _simple_ it had all been. It had just been an extremely attractive, neurotic Goblin King with a penchant for stealing babies from petulant teenagers, a timed trial, and a quest for the greater good. There was no whirlwind of college life, no euphoria of studies, no long-term relationship, no engagement, no heartbreak –

Damn.  _That_ again. Stop brooding, Sarah… nothing can change  _That_  anymore.

Sarah obediently clenched her teeth in a way that she was positive her dentist would disapprove of, jaw aching as a distraction to her thoughts. Sucking in a chilly breath between locked teeth, she exhaled noisily through her nose and watched the fog of her sigh rise like smoke. The Labyrinth was a general safe oasis of thought in her otherwise poisoned mind, so she retreated back to safe turf.

Then again, her thoughts of the Labyrinth were becoming exponentially less centered on the  _Labyrinth_ and exponentially  _more_ centered on its King. The one with the shamelessly tight leggings that displayed a package all too pleasing to a starving college girl with thirteen-plus weeks of celibacy under her belt. Thirteen very  _long_ weeks.

His honeyed words meant very little to her now, especially since she was more than positive that they had been a device to lure her away from her quest. The presence of his physicality, however – his raw  _chemistry_ – was still seared into her memory with none of the confusion that her fifteen-year-old self had experienced with it. She had been but a girl, green and too terrified at the prospect of losing her brother because of some s _tupid_ wish to pay more attention. Now, in Sarah's much more mature mentality, she could remember his grace, his commanding presence, his  _voice –_

She would be lying if she said that that voice – and those  _hands –_ had not visited her more than a few times ever since this whole debacle started. If only…

"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be – take this bad dating streak of mine far away from me!" she grumbled under her breath. A second later, she scoffed at the improvised line, but inexplicably felt better for saying it nonetheless. The undergrad senior hugged herself more closely against the waning chill of February. Silly Sarah. What she needed was a warm bath, and maybe she'd try clubbing next month –

"As you wish, precious."

The clack of her boots on the cold sidewalk stopped. Sarah cocked her head to one side, trying to decide if her sleep debt was catching up with her, or if she had just made a terrible mistake. But no – she had not said 'I wish'.

She shrugged and began to preoccupy herself with thoughts of the political science essay she needed to have done by Monday. Just think, she could have been blissfully holed up in her room writing about the evolution of American Federalism instead of wasting her time with the romantic equivalent of Puff the Magic Dragon.

 _At least good ol' Puff lived by the sea and not with his mother,_ Sara thought bitterly.

"You know,  _precious,_ it is incredibly rude to ignore someone when he offers to lay the world at your feet." The regal voice sighed. "Some things never change, it seems."

To her credit, Sarah did not even falter this time, though she did shiver. The voice was closer, and she could feel her palms sweating with a strange mix of paranoia and excitement. She tamped down both reactions in favor for rationality.

" _You_ are not real – you are merely the product of intense sexual frustration and stressful course work."

"Indeed?" The drawl sounded both surprised and amused. Sarah felt herself flush despite herself, but continued on fearlessly. The clicks of her boots were crisper now, and she held herself more erect.

"Quite. Now, if you don't go away soon, I will be forced to see a psychiatrist, who will put me on medication for schizophrenia, or something – overactive dopamine levels, and all that."

Silence. Sarah waited another good five paces before she allowed herself a sigh of relief. Mental derangement was not something she wished to add to her list of stressors.

To still the uneasy feeling that had begun coiling in her stomach, she walked herself through the chemical equation of nuclear explosion. One neutron and one Uranium atom of atomic mass… 235? Yes, it was 235 – yielded the products of Barium-141 and Krypton-92, along with… what, three other neutrons? No, no, the math was not right on that… it would be two extra neutrons. One neutron came along and knocked a perfectly happy Uranium atom apart to pieces, producing tremendous amounts of energy and two simple, innocent little bastard neutrons.

Then they would all go on their merry way and cause the most terrific kind of destruction, both immediate and long-lasting, that mankind had ever had the pleasure of being obsessed with.

"You're still there, aren't you." It was a grim statement, said in the kind of tone of one who prepares to throw the dirt over her own grave.

"How astute of you to notice. For a fearful moment, I was afraid you had grown both more beautiful and more jaded." Sarah felt the insane urge to laugh bubble against her throat, but she swallowed it with a weak whimper.

_Right on one account at least, and there is no guarantee on 'beautiful'._

Sarah grunted. "Actually, I was just thinking about Fate."

_Am I the neutron or the Uranium? Or am I merely a product? Am I even in the equation, or am I just a devastating side effect?_

This was what she deserved for double majoring in Chemistry and English.

Behind her, the voice was nonplussed at her self-deprecating train of thought.

"Hmm. Nasty business, Fate. I would know, I have had centuries to deal with the thing, and it never has served me well."

When Sarah immediately felt inclined to agree, the rational part of her brain began blaring rather belated alarms of how  _ludicrous_ this was. Sarah suddenly stopped and stomped her foot, fed up with this outlandish fever dream. Preposterous! It was too horrendously – or perhaps too perfectly –timed, it was too  _convenient,_ and Fate be damned, she had  _not_ come this far to fall prey to thwarted sexual fantasy! She was  _not_ talking to the Goblin King. Not after  _That,_ not after so many goddamn months of  _no sex_ (which her boiling temper assured her that he probably got  _plenty_ of!), not after months of being plagued with raw and rather embarrassing dreams of  _him –_

Nails digging into her palms, Sarah Williams turned on her heel to face the Goblin King. Enough was enough. She was a big girl now, and the sharp-as-knife words pushing at her tongue comforted her with the knowledge that she would show him  _exactly_ what-for.

She was prepared for his self-assured grin, she was ready for his Goblin armor, and hell, she would have probably  _welcomed_ a snake being thrown at her right now – but  _this?_

He was nowhere to be seen.

Sarah felt the nervous energy of her stomach rise and become a strangled sound of a woman who was at the end of her rope, deep in the back of her throat. The ire of mere moments before left her in a sudden exodus, leaving her hands limp and shaking with her breath shuddering in her chest. Her eyes were gritty with fatigue, she was feverish despite the cold from improper diet and lack of sleep, her feet ached, and all she had to go home to was Alexandre Dumas. For absolutely no reason at all, the weight and stress of the last  _six months_  since  _That_ had happened decided to choose right now to taunt her with mental instability. Her chest felt painfully tight, her breath scraped like sandpaper against her tight throat, her eyes began to burn and  _damn it,_ none of it was  _fair –_

"You do not look happy to see me, precious. I wonder why?"

This time she whirled quickly, and was caught off guard when she actually saw  _him,_ casually leaning against a lamppost as if his absence had not almost triggered her mental breakdown. Wordlessly, she gawked at him, glassy eyes forgotten. Then, she gawked at him for an entirely different reason.

Sarah swore to herself that she would have time to hate him for being so damnably self-assured while she was so miserable later… but for now, she drank in the sight of him hungrily as one does when one forgets the sensation of satisfaction. All that was left was anticipation and need.

The Goblin King, of course, was not oblivious. Pointed teeth glinted in the dim lamp light as his lips parted in a slow, sly smirk. Sarah gulped heavily and forced herself not to lick her lips.

"See something you like, precious?"

_Oh, yes. Yes, very much indeed._

"What do you want, Goblin King?"

He raised his eyebrows in a mockery of innocence, finally pulling himself from his leaning position and sauntering towards her a few steps.

"I, precious? What do  _I_ want? Well, I should think that would be obvious." He stopped a few steps away from her, but a faint, icy wind blew his scent towards her, and Sarah nearly growled. No living being had the right to smell that  _masculine._  "My only  _desire_  is to fulfill your every wish."

Sarah's eyes bulged unbecomingly, and she nearly choked at how wonderful and  _wrong_ that last statement was. She was especially caught up on how his tongue had lingered on the word  _desire,_ drawing it out and savoring it as though it was an exotic fruit. Her insides quivered giddily. In that moment, she could not vouch for her will being as strong as his. She was not sure she wanted it to be.

_Get your mind out of the gutter, Sarah. Focus!_

"B-but I never said 'I wish'!" she stammered, wincing at how pathetic it sounded. The Goblin King would undoubtedly think she trembled with fear in his presence. Little did he know that she only trembled because the words she  _really_ wanted to say were entirely different.

The royalty shrugged, conjuring a crystal and feigning preoccupation with contact juggling. Sarah focused on the bauble closely, praying to every deity who would listen that he could  _not_ see her dreams in this one.

"You would be surprised at how slow business has been lately, my dear. I find that I will take what I can get." His eyes darted up to hers, arresting her breath and making her stand stock-still. His lips quirked and he strolled forward to circle her. Sarah fought the urge to scream… or plead. "In fact, I have been waiting for a very long time to find  _any_ invitation to come to the Aboveground. It only seems fitting that the invitation would come from  _you,_ precious." He was by her right ear now, and she could  _feel_  the magnetism of his body drawing her in. She shuddered, mostly with the effort of keeping her impulses in check. Sifting through the fog of her senses, she searched for something akin to normal conversation to latch on to.

"Why would business be slow?" she finally asked. She stopped herself from wincing again, though she did mentally kick herself in the rear. If she was  _trying_ to push away any chance she had at ending this drought of hers, she was doing a bang-up job of it. Sarah found with a growing sense of horror that she was not quite sure how to be appealing anymore, let alone seductive.

Apparently, the Goblin King was not expecting this turn of conversation either, but he was gracious enough to role with the punch. He vanished the crystal and stopped in front of her, an arm's length away.

"It is a rather long story, my dear, and full of boring Underground politics." He eyed her curiously. It seemed he was finally catching on to the fact that she was a  _very_ different person than she had left him.

Something in his manner – less pompous now, more inquisitive – made her bolder. She finally met his eyes without hesitation, and in that moment, she decided to act like the grown woman she was. They were two adults, admittedly with some unconventional history, but she could very well treat him as more than the desirable villain that she had painted him as. She smiled disarmingly, and cherished the glimmer of satisfaction in her chest when his unearthly mismatched eyes betrayed a look of surprise.

"I rather like long stories," she said brightly. The bewilderment turned to distrust. "Would you care to come back to my apartment and relate it to me? I have tea."

They stared at each other for a very long moment after that, the self-assurance of the Goblin King all but vanished as he attempted to understand what to make of her. Eventually, his searching eyes yielded to a slow grin, an odd expression settling itself into the lines of his eyes and mouth. She could not quite place a name to it – Bemusement? Appraisal? Respect? She found that she did not much mind any of those.

Slowly, deliberately, he offered his arm to her. "Very well, precious. I accept."

She smiled wider this time, more genuine. The moment she nestled her hand comfortably in the crook of his arm, she realized how isolated she had made herself this last half-year. After  _That_ had happened, plenty of friends and family had offered their sympathies, had made themselves available "if she ever wanted to talk". She had not wanted their sentiment – their sympathy, empathy, pity, whatever it was. Though it might have been 'unhealthy', she had found that she just wanted to put the whole ordeal behind her and  _move on…_  but she had sacrificed her normal relationships in the process.

Now, as Sarah was being escorted by the stately Goblin King in her small little town in Illinois, she felt as though she had slipped into the warm bath that she had been fantasizing about earlier. There was no such danger of being bombarded with doleful eyes or understanding hugs, no chance that the  _Goblin King_ would suffocate her with sentimentality and painful memories. Sure, a good portion of her mind was definitely caught up in the casual brushes of the Goblin King's lean body next to hers, and in the definitely intoxicating scent that surrounded him like an addicting miasma…

… but the pleasure she felt was more than just physical. She was content. Sarah gave a little sigh and adjusted herself more naturally to the Goblin King's stride as he began to relate to her all that had happened in the Underground since her departure nearly seven years ago.

It was good to have a companion again.

* * *

"So she wished away her  _cat?"_

"Indeed! But that isn't the last of it, I'm afraid." He grimaced. "It turns out, she had very good reason to wish it away. Within a week, the demon thing had traumatized half of the goblin population and had commandeered the chicken coops. It took a battalion of my bravest goblins in order to capture it and go Aboveground to  _beg_ the poor woman to take it back!"

Sarah threw her head back and laughed in a way she hadn't in quite a long time. "Did she?"

The Goblin King scoffed. "Of course not. I would have doubted her sanity."

The two of them mounted the stairs to Sarah's small apartment, now speaking like old friends. Sarah paused to wave to the landlady, who had popped her head out of her door to see what all of the ruckus was. If Sarah noticed the matronly woman's obvious surprise at seeing her chatting and laughing with a rather eccentric man after about half a year of solitude, she made no sign of it.

Sarah's keys jingled merrily as she opened her door. Rationality gave her a moment of pause to consider the wisdom of  _inviting_ the Goblin King into her home, but she shrugged it off. It was too late now, and she was having the best time – and conversation – she had had in many weeks.

"So what did you do with it? Surely you didn't keep the thing."

He barked a laugh. "Hardly!" Those sharp canines of his matched the mischief in his eyes when he spoke next. "Suffice to say, the Troll King found himself a  _lovely_ new pet as part of a political bargain that it would have been social suicide to reject."

She gaped at him with a mixture of incredulity and amusement in her eyes. "You're terrible!"

He, in turn, had the gall to look immensely self-satisfied. "That  _is_ what I am told."

Chuckling, she shook her head and turned the knob at last. Leaning against the wall to unlace her boots, she glanced surreptitiously around the apartment, suddenly very self-conscious. The Goblin King sauntered in as if he owned the place, and she only had the sense to think of how out of place he looked next to her battered, garage-sale coffee table littered with chemistry equations and books with titles like  _International Politics: Enduring Concepts and Contemporary Issues,_   _How to Read Literature Like a Professor,_ and  _World Politics and You._

She closed her door and locked it out of habit, waiting with a new tense nervousness for his reaction. Trying to seem unaffected, she bustled into her kitchen area (really, it was more of a kitchenette) and put on a kettle for the tea she had promised him.

Finally, he spoke. "This is… quaint."

Sarah felt the urge to snort, but also felt obliged to be defensive of her little sanctuary. "I know it isn't much, and it certainly isn't a Goblin Castle, but does it's job. Besides," she sniffed, putting on airs. "We can't all make a sumptuous living off of baby-snatching from around the globe, now can we?"

Unexpectedly, the Goblin King's expression fell and darkened a bit, and he took the liberty of sinking comfortably into her secondhand love seat.

"Actually, it should please you to hear that  _that_ is exactly the problem of my 'long story'." He managed to look deep in thought and serious while also draping a leg over his new throne. Sarah swallowed and forced herself to look away. She wasn't sure if she would look at that seat the same way after tonight.

She cleared her throat and came to join him in the 'living room', which wasn't so much a living room as it was a large room for her books. She owned no television set – only a cheap bookshelf laden with texts and novels from over the years, bought at half-price from online or through friends. The little futon she sat at was practically ancient – it had been her mother's before the divorce, and Sarah had only taken it because it could transform easily into a bed if she decided to sleep with her books after a long night of studying.

All in all, she thought it would be best if she kept her guest preoccupied with his thoughts – perhaps then he wouldn't notice his Spartan surroundings. One could hope.

"Ah yes, your 'long story'. Please elaborate."

He swung his legs down to normal sitting position and leaned towards her with a theatrical air. "Well," he began. "It may shock you to hear this, but  _you_ were actually my last legitimate Runner, all those years ago." When she raised her eyebrows, expecting the punchline, he continued. "Not a single child has been wished away since."

She gave him a look. "If you're accusing me of something…"

He shook his head quickly. "Not at all, precious. Indeed, no – I suppose I should be thanking you." He looked ironic for a second. "Although you certainly left your  _mark_ on the Goblin City – " She had the decency to flush. " – you  _did_ give me a spot of business and amusement."

"But why have you received no wishes, then?"

He shrugged and leaned back in his commandeered seat. "It isn't that people have s _topped_ wishing – they simply do not wish to  _me_. The thing is, Sarah dear –" She blinked, unused to hearing her name from his lips, but he continued obliviously. " – no one believes anymore."

After a moment of letting that comment sink in, Sarah rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You're not telling me that you're like Tinkerbell or something, and will cease to exist unless the world claps their hands and says 'I do believe in fairies'?"

He glared at her. "Don't be silly. My  _life-force_ has absolutely nothing to do with it. Business, however, does." He sighed dramatically. "The world nowadays is much more hands-on, do-it-yourself. There's no more room for goblins to come whisking away people's problems and teaching them lessons of self-discovery."

Sarah leaned her head against her hand, curious now. "How do you mean?"

The look in his eyes as they darted to meet hers, as if he was assessing her ability to accept his next words, made her feel strangely exposed. It was as if she was trying to pass a surprise examination. She resisted the urge to fidget, and met his eyes without daring to blink.

The moment passed when he gave a little nod to her, as if pleased with what he found. "People do not wish away their children any more mostly because the astounding amount of antipathy towards magic and anything to do with the Underground. This does not mean, however, that they have become more wise or grateful for the gift of human life. Oh no," his gaze was almost… haunted. Sarah found that she could not look away. "No, now they simply solve their 'problems' themselves. Children are neglected, sometimes beaten. When they behave poorly, instead of enticing those around them to wish them away, they are instead abandoned or punished severely. I have seen newborns left in dumpsters or heartlessly deserted by over-loaded orphanages or health institutions. The problem is, I  _cannot intervene."_  The genuine look of anguish in his unseeing eyes and the tension in his clenched fist stirred something within Sarah, and she felt the impulsive need to cover his gloved hand with hers. She resisted, but continued to silently share in his pain. "Unless called upon by someone in the Aboveground, I cannot directly influence any future or outcome."

"What about ordinary wishes? Do they have to be directed at goblins for you to act upon them?" she asked, trying to opt for a slightly different path of conversation.

He pursed his lips. "Mundane wishes are the only reason why my kingdom has not completely fallen apart, but to be forced to acquiesce to such wishes is degrading and does very little to help my subjects. Wishes, you see, are complex things. They have to be worthy of granting, they have to be  _meant,_ and the wisher has to  _believe_ that it will be granted. Goblins live off of the wishes of humans, because they carry the power of belief which no Fey can replicate. Recently, humans tend to make empty wishes, or hopeless wishes, or wishes that even  _I_ would not grant." He looked troubled, and he turned his intense gaze to study her face. "Not only are you the only living Runner who has completed the Labyrinth, but you are one of the few true believers left."

Sarah drew breath to speak – though she had no idea what she could possibly say to something like that – when the high-pitched scream of the kettle on the stove made them both jump. Like a spell broken, the tense atmosphere was lightened with uneasy chuckles. Sarah smiled bashfully and rose to get the tea.

With a steadying breath, she collected herself, and willed her excited heart to be calm. The intensity of his gaze was more than a little alien after so long of being alone. She was unused to the scrutiny, and felt like he could read her like an open book. Of course, this must not have been completely true – if he  _could,_ they probably would not be speaking so freely. Either he would be laughing with disdain at the unholy desires of the once-pure little Sarah, or they would be in a position with much less clothing.

Sarah shook her head and attempted to pat the blush away from her cheeks, busying herself with making tea. She bit her lip when she opened her cupboard and saw only some years-old Earl Grey and some chicken-flavored Ramen noodles. She hadn't had a chance to go shopping. Feeling desperate, she felt into the back of the cupboard… and came out with a completely unopened gift from one of her friends from last summer. Surprised, she felt like laughing at her ironic fortune, and happily set about preparing the beverages. Feeling spontaneous and a little mischievous, she used the first of her Summer Peach tea bags, and poured a cup for each of them.

When she returned to the 'living' room, she was happy to find that the intense, serious Goblin King she had left was now replaced with an idly inquisitive one, looking through  _How to Read Literature Like a Professor_ with mild interest.

"I used to know this man you call 'the bard', once," he commented as he accepted his cup. "Interesting fellow, but he had a rather skewed perception of how the Fey world works. 'If we shadows have offended' – how ludicrous." He scoffed. "As if any self-respecting Fey creature would care about making an offense."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a sly grin. "And yet, you know enough to quote Shakespeare, hm?"

The Goblin King seemed about to protest, but stopped short. He glowered at the gloating look in her eyes and grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "decent storyteller for a human" before hiding behind a sip of tea.

Sarah watched him very closely even as she drank her own tea, accidentally scalding her tongue in the process. After her adventure in the Labyrinth, she had sensibly developed a kind of peach-phobia, and for a while, could barely even stand the smell of the fruit. One night shortly after her twenty-first birthday, however, she had gotten a little daring and had decided to try a peach schnapps as a kind of defiant comeback. It had quickly become a favorite of hers, and soon enough she had cultivated a contrary sort of peach obsession. 'No power over me', indeed.

The flavor was not lost on Jareth. As soon as the hot liquid touched his tongue, his eyes darted to her and widened slightly in masked surprise. She hid her grin behind her mug, but he could recognize the mischievous glee in her eyes as well as if they had been his own. He swallowed and set down his mug, looking at her with a newfound respect.

"My, my," he murmured. "You certainly  _have_ changed, haven't you?"

For absolutely no reason whatsoever, Sarah found that she blushed with pleasure at his perceived approval. She disguised the reaction by breaking eye contact and taking another sip of tea. She had a sneaking suspicion that the warmth sliding down her chest and into her stomach had absolutely nothing to do with the drink.

"It's odd," he continued. "How much I am… enjoying myself."

She met his eyes gain at that. He returned her look with and emotion caught between bemusement and humor.

"You would be surprised to know, I am sure, that this is the most conversation I have held with a woman, human or otherwise, in quite a while." He hummed after a moment. "Despite the intense efforts from the higher-ups to ensure otherwise."

Instantly, Sarah found herself conflicted between unreasonable satisfaction and something indescribable that felt like the little green whisper of envy. Sarah was caught between asking him what he  _had_ been doing with other women if not conversing with them, or asking why his 'higher-ups' would be trying so hard in the first place. Deciding that the first would have sounded oddly… _clingy_ , she opted with the second.

His answering sigh was a long-suffering one. "Despite popular belief, precious, it is rather difficult to be a king – especially when your subjects hardly know the difference between a chicken and a child. Especially after your little…" He gestured vaguely in the air, " _escapade,_ and the subsequent lack of human wishes, the Goblin Kingdom has fallen quite into disrepair."

Sarah's brow knitted of its own accord as she failed to see the connection. "Sorry, but what does that have to do with your 'higher-ups' forcing you to converse with women?"

He slapped his thigh. "That's just it, my dear! They think I've lost my touch!" Haughtily, he raised his nose in the air and looked indignant. "The entire Fey Court is convinced that I have willingly let the Goblin Kingdom turn to shambles, and that I need a  _queen_ to take care of it properly. 'A bachelor's pigsty', they say, or 'a disgrace to the Underground'!" Sarah giggled ( _giggled!_ ) at his impersonation of his offenders. He looked irate, but gave her a begrudging smile. "You have no  _idea_ the insufferable agony of being forced to hold company with countless others who you know will never interest you in the slightest."

Sarah gave a little grunt at that. "Oh, trust me," she said, thinking back to the last thirteen weeks. "I have a pretty good idea."

In the comfortable silence that followed of two sympathizers against the world, Sarah could not be sure when exactly the her mind finally took the plunge down the rabbit hole. All she knew was that one moment, she was feeling as comfortable as could be with her new companion, and the next… the most devious of all twisted plots had sprouted.

 _No,_ she thought.  _Don't be ridiculous. Just go back to drinking your tea, silly girl._

But still, the thought persisted. She must have forgotten herself as she hesitantly entertained the idea, because the Goblin King noticed the change in her stare. She was looking at him with a considering air, as if she was at the grocery store trying to decide on the best bargain deal. His eyes narrowed, unused to being on the receiving end of such appraisal. He did not like the look in her eyes – and he told her as much.

Sarah started a little, and stammered an apology. "I'm just wondering," she found herself blurting. "Just wondering… if this crazy idea I have in my head is worth mentioning."

He seemed relieved, and raised an eyebrow encouragingly. "Ah. Well, come on then, let's hear it."

The woman blushed, suddenly feeling snared by her own trap, and cleared her throat. After a moment of deliberately straightening her shirt and making much ado about looking serious, she met his eyes with a bit of false bravado.

_If you're going to do this, you had better do it right. No simpering little girl here – just a woman who knows what she wants._

"It would seem that we are both in disconcerting social positions," she began. "I haven't held decent company in months, and you are being bombarded with unwelcome advances. My idea is this."

_Here goes._

"I will happily act as your Queen-to-be to get the Fairy Court or whatever off your back... emphasis on 'act' of course." Sarah paused. Here, she made direct eye contact, spoke clearly, and even used her hands. There would be  _no_ misunderstanding on this.

"I in  _no way_ want to be your Queen," she gave a little snort laugh, as if the very thought was completely preposterous. " _Gawd,_ no. Not if you paid me! I mean, right? That would be - I mean could you  _imagi - "_ She cut herself off, finally catching the glower that said ' _not one step farther, precious_ ' from the Goblin King. Clearing her throat, she folded her hands diplomatically and started again.

"Anyway. My  _point_ is, I would be no more than an actress in a role. And, in return, we would ensure …" here was the sticky part, "… our mutual intimate gratification."

There. It had been said. Now for the reaction.

Jareth blinked, processing her words.

_Wait._

He blinked again, looking at her, unsure, as if trying to decide if he had understood her in the way she had meant to be understood.

 _Almost there_.

Finally, his eyebrows rose impossibly high and he leaned forward to the edge of his seat.

_Bingo._

"Allow me to understand you fully,  _precious,"_  he purred with a mixture of danger and incredulity. "You want to fool the entire Underground Court in exchange for – let me be as frank as possible – sex?"

She blushed, but gave a tiny, firm nod. "Well, if you want to be so indelicate about it…  _yes."_

There was a moment of tense silence, in which Sarah was locked into a staring contest that was doing funny things to her stomach. This was the pivotal moment – he would either laugh at her and she would never see him again, or her love life was about to get  _very_ interesting.

Slowly, the Goblin King's eyes raked Sarah's form in a way that they had not before. His gaze strolled down her curves like he was walking in a park, and by the time they arrived back to meet her own eyes, she was an impressive shade of embarrassment. His lips parted in an equally deliberate display of pointed teeth, and he grinned a wolfish grin. Suddenly, he held out a leather-clad hand.

"Deal."


	2. Backwards or Forwards?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments/kudos. Your support is much appreciated, and I only hope that this story meets your standards! A special thank you to the reviewers - you are the select few who care enough to click that button and say whatever you want to say, whether good or bad, to give me feedback for this wacky project of mine. You are my bread and butter!  
> **ACTUALLY IMPORTANT NOTE**: I know next to nothing about Chemistry, so if ANY of you take an interest in it or have a background in it, PLEASE let me know if I'm doing it justice and point out any errors or improvements I could make. I have attempted to self-research for this chapter, but my knowledge is seriously limited folks. HELP WOULD BE A GODSEND!

Chapter 2 - Backwards or Forwards?

"A woman's strength should not be in her role, whatever she chooses to be, but in the power to choose that role." – Brandon Sanderson,  _Words of Radiance_

 

"Hoggle?" Sarah asked her mirror. "Hoggle, are you there?"

All Sarah could hear was a faint grumbling, but she had heard the tones enough times to recognize them. She rolled her eyes. Hoggle was ever the traditionalist.

Adopting a look of wide-eyed innocence, Sarah clasped her hands in front of the mirror, and spoke her magic Words.

"I  _need_  you, Hoggle!"

The next time she blinked, Hoggle had appeared behind her in the reflection of her own tiny bedroom. When she turned and gave him a look, he only raised his eyebrows cheekily.

"Well, why didn't you just say so, hm?"

A warm smile broke Sarah's façade, reaching all the way to her eyes as she stepped forward to scoop Hoggle up into a hug. The dwarf protested, of course, and Sarah could still not be sure after all these years if she continued hugging him because it irked him or because it secretly pleased him. Either way, she kept hugging.

"It's good to see you, Hoggle," she greeted as she released him. Hoggle scratched his characteristically large nose and looked away – Sarah knew that, had his skin not been the rough color and texture of tree-bark, he would be blushing.

"Yeah, well… you're not so bad yourself, I 'spose." In the language of Hoggle, this really meant ' _It's good to see you too Sarah – I've missed you.'_

Sarah felt a grimace of guilt in her stomach. It had been months since she had last contacted any of her friends in the Labyrinth, and a little more than that since she had called on Hoggle alone. Like any long-distance friendship, there were lengthy stretches of silence between them, broken sporadically by hours of talking, laughing, and catching up. Nevertheless, her ties with the choice inhabitants of the Labyrinth had prevailed throughout the years. It was in them that she tended to confide her most plain-faced of feelings, devoid of secrets or alterations to the truth. She knew it was at least partially because they did not understand all of the problems she faced in the Aboveground, and therefore could not judge her the same way her peers would, but it was also because they had known her the longest and still accepted her despite everything.

Feeling very sentimental in that moment, Sarah reached forward and grabbed Hoggle's clumsily shaped hands in her own. "Come on, Hoggle, I'll make you some tea."

Sarah hummed happily as she led Hoggle to her 'living' room, unceremoniously shoving some skewed books aside to clear him a space on the… loveseat.

 _As soon as Sarah's hand had touched his to seal the deal, she found herself propelled forward to end in a messy sprawl in his lap, the loveseat protesting under their combined weight. Disoriented, blinking up at him over a mess of hair, Sarah's mouth had fallen open in shock at the marked change from her personable companion to this…_ rogue.  _He smirked with a superior gleam in his eyes._

_"Come now, precious," he had murmured intimately, with devil's smile. "What better way to seal such a deal than to do justice to it?"_

_When nothing but air managed to escape Sarah's suddenly parched throat, she settled for a mesmerized nod. His scent was stronger up close, reminding her of how a thunderclap might smell before a storm, mixed with a heady, smoky smell of something ancient. Magic._

_He looked like the cat that got the cream. Sarah found that she very much did_ not _mind being the cream._

She paused and blushed, casting a furtive glance at Hoggle, who was now looking at her expectantly. After a short internal debate, she quickly replaced the books and decided to clear a space on the futon instead. Yes, that was much more comfortable. Hoggle noticed all of this with a confused air, but accepted the seat that she smiled him into all the same.

 _Somethin's off,_  he thought astutely to himself. Ever the wise dwarf, he determined to stay watchful until he discovered what it was.

This was why, as Sarah returned with black tea (Hoggle's favorite), she found his eyes bugging out of his skull as he sat, stiff as a statue, catching every little movement about the room. Attempting to remain respectful of her friend, Sarah held out a full three seconds before she burst into laughter.

This startled Hoggle out of his posture, but his eyes continued to be wide and unblinking.

"Hoggle, what are you - ?" Sarah found that she could hardly finish the sentence through a combination of being utterly mystified and amused.

For the second time that evening, Hoggle looked bashful. "Well, er, I'm just… watchin'."

Her smile stayed wide even as her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "Watching  _what,_ exactly?"

Hoggle shuffled around, feeling foolish now. When he  _did_ remember why he had felt the need to be watchful, he remembered the odd look on Sarah's face as she had waltzed into her kitchen. His eyes returned to hers, as if he would find a new label there. His answer was cautious. "Just… anthin' what needs to be found, I s'pose."

Sarah spared him once last quizzical stare before shaking her head with a chuckle, letting the matter go. Setting down his tea, she took her seat next to him and settled in.

"Anyway – did you bring the supply I asked for?"

"Ah!" Hoggle's very one-track mind immediately switched its loyalties. "Er yes, let me see here…" He patted along his vest comically as Sarah watched, sipping her tea while her eyes crinkled with laughter.

"Yep!" He triumphantly pulled out a long leather belt with a series of four small pockets, about two-by-three inches wide, all holding glass vials filled with the same sparkling liquid. "Here i'tis!" He scratched behind his ear as he handed it to her eager hands. "I dunt really know why you wants some old fairy spray anyways…" He trailed off and smiled indulgently, as one might to a small, deranged child asking for old socks. His gnarled hand patted her knee. "… But anthin' for Sarah."

She smiled back at him good-naturedly. "Thank you, Hoggle. And thank you for putting them into smaller containers this time. It makes experimentation much easier."

A little more than half a year ago, Hoggle had been over one evening and had begun complaining about work. This had surprised Sarah – though Hoggle was known to gripe and grumble, he almost never said anything about his work. She knew that he secretly took much pride and joy in taking care of the Labyrinth's gardens. When pressed, he told her that he had only just left after spending double the time cleaning up the fairy pests (this is what Sarah had learned fairies were – creatures which looked humanoid but had barely the brain power of an intelligent insect), because his pump had malfunctioned and spilled fairy-spray everywhere. He had been forced to report to the Goblin King a week earlier than he usually did, just to get another working pump and more spray.

What tipped Sarah off was when he began to complain about being dizzy and heavy-limbed from "all the extra work". Though Hoggle had already looked about as healthy as a sodden mop when he came in, the mere mention of some tea made him look positively green. Sarah, who had written extensively about pesticides in her junior year for an investigative paper, recognized the possible causes and effects of moderate pesticide poisoning.

She had forced him (although it could not have been very hard, considering his condition) into a bath and had proceeded to scrub every inch of his skin and shampoo his fluffy, whitened hair until he came out of her half-shower at least a full shade lighter than he had entered it. Brushing aside his protests – "Oh come  _on,_ Hoggle, I'm not fifteen. This is nothing I haven't seen before!" – she had proceeded to properly sanitize and powder the overly-mothered dwarf, and lecture him about the proper protection tools and procedures for avoiding direct contact with pesticide. In fact, she had gone out that very hour and come back with industrial-strength gardening gloves and a protective mask and made him promise to be more careful. If the symptoms were still bothering him in the morning, she insisted that he see a physician, and would drag him to an Aboveground doctor if he put up too much of a fuss about it, and "damn the consequences!".

He had left her much grumpier than before, looking vaguely ridiculous with his pasty, baby-powdered skin, bulky gloves, and face mask… but she had felt a little better knowing that he would keep his word. When she had called on him the next day to check up, he assured her that he felt much better and that he was doing everything she told him to. He gave himself a thorough wash after every day of garden-spraying work now, and had begrudgingly admitted that he hadn't had so much as a headache since following Sarah's orders.

Sarah, after the crisis had been averted, took keen interest in the spray he used to take care of the fairy population. For some reason, she had never connected Hoggle's work with pesticide chemicals, but it was obvious that they were related in some ways. She had asked him for a sample, and had set about identifying the compounds within the unknown substance. Basic preliminary observations had told her that it probably could not be any known Aboveground chemical – unless pesticides made a habit of sparkling like diamonds, which her research paper assured her they did not. A series of qualitative tests had, however, indicated that the compound had similar properties to a carbamate, which was a common chemical pesticide used in farming that targeted the nervous system and generally resulted in paralysis and, with high enough dosage, death. This made sense since, according to her memories, fairies would drop almost instantaneously after being sprayed, and were generally incapacitated long enough for something to come along and eat them (she had learned this from Hoggle's fascinatingly and worryingly detailed descriptions). If they were lucky enough to survive the fall and subsequent predators, fairies would often recover and resume their daily joys of hassling gardens and dwarves.

The only problem was that carbamates had several different sub-categories, and it had taken constant and  _repetitive_  testing to figure out which one it matched with the most. What was more, she had no idea how this substance would affect humans, so she had to exhibit as extreme caution as her resources would allow. This meant stealing into the chemical lab at university during off hours, when it was being unused, and wearing the heaviest kind of protective gear she had access to. Being alone was also a necessity to avoid awkward questioning – any chemistry student with half a brain would know that something was odd about the unearthly looking substance she was obviously so wary of. These factors combined made the process a slow one, so it had been months since her first testings. After ruling out the more dangerously toxic compounds from negative test results, she had recently discovered that the pesticide was most closely identifiable with fenobucarb, a less toxic carbamate. This had been felt like an incredible breakthrough after months of what felt like going around in circles… but she had run out of samples.

Now that Sarah  _finally_ had a better idea of what she was working with, she had an entirely different goal. She had no idea if it would work, of course, so she hadn't even told Hoggle. Sarah wanted to separate the Aboveground elements – the fenobucarb – from the Underground elements. If her suspicions were correct, she could potentially wind up with pure, liquid magic.

Sarah was not sure what such a discovery would do, both to her world and to the Underground, but she found that she could not resist the urge to find out. She would also be lying, however, if the image of her getting a Nobel Peace Prize had never danced in her head.

"Sarah?" Hoggle was eyeing her with concern bordering on panic. His large hand waved in front of her face. "If yer wonderin' how I's got the potion, I just wanner make sure you knows that I was  _real_ careful – "

It took Sarah a few moments of confusion after reminiscing to realize what Hoggle was so worried about. Laughing easily, she took Hoggle's hand and squeezed it, tucking his fairy spray samples safely in a knitting basket by her futon (never actually used for knitting, but a convenient cache nonetheless).

"Don't worry, Hoggle," she soothed him. "I'm not going to scrub you down again. Your pride is safe from me."

The dwarf looked a little guilty for jumping to such conclusions, but seemed relieved. For the first time since Hoggle had arrived, he finally let go of the rest of his stiffness and leaned all of his weight into Sarah's familiar futon (although he really preferred the loveseat) with a comfortable sigh.

"Well, Sarah," he began, as he so often did. "How are you, lately?"

Sarah beamed with a contagious, sparkling smile that lit up her eyes. "Quite well, thank you."

Immediately, Hoggle was on alert again, and he struggled not to stare in awe at her positively  _radiant_ expression. There was nothing different about the words, Hoggle realized, but he knew now what had been bothering him since he got here. Her  _'Quite well, thank you'_  was exactly the same and yet profoundly different than every other time she said the exact same thing to him. While the last few months her  _'Quite well, thank you'_ had been muttered in a way that said that "everything is definitely  _not_ quite well, but she did not want to worry him", now it was… well, everything seemed to be quite  _more_ well than "quite well". Sarah seemed unreservedly and unabashedly  _happy._

Hoggle did not like a single moment of it.

"Er… are you alright, Sarah?"

It was not as if Hoggle did not want Sarah to be happy – he had seen her grow up and felt indescribably proud of the young woman she had become, although he would never admit such under even the most creative of tortures. The last time he had seen her, however, she had been despondent and had sighed more than she had spoken. Something about that  _boy_ she had been seeing. Hoggle never really had approved of him, but she always defended that he would never approve of  _anyone,_ which he could never truthfully deny.

Now, however, she gleamed like a star and looked more youthful than he had seen her in… perhaps years. Even now, as she gave him a quizzical smile, her green eyes did not cloud as he was accustomed to seeing.

"Of course, Hoggle." She tucked her feet under herself and leaned more comfortably into the futon as well. "Now are you going to tell me what's new in the Labyrinth, or am I going to have to threaten soap and water?"

Hoggle stared at her hard for a few more moments, briefly entertaining the idea that she was still hurt and had just gotten much better at covering it up. A part of him was honestly a little miffed. He had spent weeks trying to figure out how to cheer Sarah up from whatever oubliette had claimed her good moods and sunny smiles, and now she was suddenly happy again? He did not know what had brought her out of her gloom, but he could not help but be a little disappointed that it had not been him.

Looking at Sarah, his  _friend,_ however – he knew that whatever had happened, Sarah was not faking her change. Her shoulders were relaxed slopes in comparison to the tense ridges of past visits, her mouth tilting vaguely upward instead of downward. She had not so much as glanced at the school work littering her coffee table, where on other visits she seemed about to kill herself with work overload. With a heavy, very Hoggle-esque sigh, he knew that he could not hold  _whatever_ it was that had made her happy against her. Whether or not he had been the one to bring her up, he was her friend, and would quietly welcome her gladness with open arms.

"Well, if you must know, Sir Didymus has recently been promoted to Head Knight at the Castle." Hoggle resumed his custom of updating Sarah on all the current events of the Labyrinth. "He uses the Bog as a sort of trainin' ground, now."

As Sarah guffawed, they both relaxed into the easy pattern of friendly chatter. Though Hoggle tried to get some stories out of her, he found that she pursued Labyrinthine tales more hungrily than she had in years, and he could not resist her insistent questions or the light in her eyes. After the first hour, Hoggle felt that he truly had a knack for storytelling. The dwarf was beginning to use theatrics, gesturing wildly with his comical limbs and bulging eyes, and the pair wiled away the hours as though they were the minutes that they were in the Underground.

The only tell-tale sign that time was, indeed, passing made itself known many hours later, when a belly-laugh from Sarah was directly interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. Hoggle gave a tired little  _harrumph_  himself and chuckled, waving a hand in Sarah's direction.

"You doesn't want to talk to ol' Hoggle no more," he grouched good-naturedly. When Sarah predictably tried to protest, he pushed himself off of his seat and made his own way towards her mirror. "Pah! I knows when my company is no longer needed."

A sneaky look over his shoulder showed him that Sarah was smiling fondly… and knowingly. He remained in character until she cracked a wider, more genuine smile.

"Oh, Hoggle," she reached down to hug him again. This time he made no protest, and gave his customary pat on her shoulder. The girl had truly made a softie out of him. "I'll always need you."

Hoggle was not a traditionally sentimental dwarf. Sarah had always been something of a special case, however, and she always seemed to know just the right words to say. He covered up the fact that his large nose was beginning to prickle along with his eyes by coughing abruptly and blowing noisily into his hat. Sarah obligingly backed away and laughed, but did not seem fooled nonetheless. Neither said anything for a moment. Then, Hoggle gave a friendly little nod, and began to step the remaining steps towards his mirror and home.

Just as Sarah was about to turn away so that he could make the transport – it was tradition, after all, that no human could observe the residents of the Underground come and go as they please – he looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Sarah?"

She stopped and arched a dark eyebrow, hand already on the light switch of the room.

He gave her a smaller smile, laced with an odd sadness that neither could have placed. "Whatever you've been doin' – keep doin' it." He grumbled a little to his feet and shuffled. Then, quickly, as if speaking against his better judgement – "I've missed yer smile."

Surprised, Sarah did not even notice when he took the plunge into her mirror and disappeared from her sight, despite the fact that she had not turned off the light, as was custom. Instead, there was a sudden glimmer out of the corner of her eye… and Hoggle was gone. She stood for a few moments after that, contemplating the place where Hoggle had stood brief moments ago with bewilderment. Then, after a moment of thought, she flushed.

_I wonder if he knows…?_

Shaking her head to herself, she finally clicked off the light and headed to go curl up with  _Jane Eyre._  Mr. Rochester was just about to propose.

* * *

Five Hours Earlier

_His scent was stronger up close, reminding her of how the air might smell before a powerful storm, mixed with a heady, smoky smell of something ancient. Magic._

_He looked like the cat that got the cream. Sarah found that she very much did_ not _mind being the cream._

_Slowly, he leaned down to her parted and startled lips, as if savoring the thunderstruck look in Sarah's eyes and waiting for her to back out, stammering and blushing and innocent._

_The anticipation crested and broke in Sarah's mind, and when he was just a few inches away, she decided that she had waited long enough. Thirteen weeks and a few tantalizing moments seemed to be Sarah's breaking point. In that moment, the mystified look in her eyes evaporated, her hands fisted in the Goblin King's loose white shirt, and she growled like a panther going in for the kill. The poor Fey before her only had a moment to register this dramatic shift before their lips slanted over each other in a searing kiss – the kiss of one who has forgotten the finesse of romance, but remembers all too well the primal urge of desire._

_The Goblin King, however, was not to be outdone. His kingdom was, after all, just has great, and his will surely as strong. His arm wound around Sarah's waist in a strange and familiar embrace, warmth radiating, until Sarah moaned from the sheer bliss of finally sinking into the one luxury she had been craving for far too long. Every moment was worth it, she realized hazily. Her fingers curled into a wild mess of hair and she sighed. He continued to kiss her, more deeply now, his scent filling her lungs like a different kind of air, clouding her head with magic and smoke, making her see stars. She kept up with it pretty well, too, until she felt the ghost of cool leather on the burning skin of her bare belly, and she suddenly had to part away to gasp for air. When Jareth immediately attempted to close the distance, she put a slightly restraining hand on his collarbone and leant her head against the arm of the loveseat, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were closed, but she could practically_ feel  _the arch look he was giving her._

_"Oh dear," he drawled. He leaned up to Sarah's ear and nipped a little. Her breathing shuddered, and she bit her lip against his chuckle. "Perhaps the little girl had bitten off more than she can chew?"_

_Her eyes flashed open then, lightning to match his thunder. He rose a sculpted eyebrow in challenge._

_"Goblin King. I am no more a 'little girl' than you are a Prince Charming," she huffed dryly. As if to prove her point, she slipped a leg out from under her pinned position and curled it securely against his hip. Both of his eyebrows rose this time. "If you refer to me as such ever again, I will simply take my propositioning skills elsewhere."_

_His mouth pursed as irritation filtered in through the desire and teasing. "Then why – "_

_"Think of it this way." She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "If you were stranded in a desert for… say… thirteen weeks," she peered at her from the corner of her eye. "Would you be able to eat an entire cheesecake upon being rescued?"_

_His brow furrowed now. "I fail to see how – "_

_"_ You _are the cheesecake, Jareth."_

_Pause. In the silence, Sarah was beginning to get distracted again by the way his chest ever so slightly brushed against the top of her breasts if they happened to breathe in time. Her gaze trailed from his eyes to his thin, expressive lips. Unwittingly, she licked her own. Yes, cheesecake was a very good analogy._

_Jareth, on the other hand, was distracted by two main things. First of all, she had spoken his name for the first time since their meeting. The way she had said it – so off-handed and natural, a harried_ ' _You_  are the cheesecake, Jareth' _– made him want to tease it from her lips in a much different way. Second, he was having trouble processing what she had seemed to just confess to him._

_"Sarah."_

_Tired of waiting, Sarah leaned in and licked at his jugular. "Hm?" Dear lord, he tasted like magic too._

_"Are you saying you haven't… slept with a man… in thirteen weeks?"_

_The woman beneath him only grunted, and perhaps nipped a little too hard at the sensitive skin on his neck. "I would not gloat, if I were you, because I have a very nice shot at some very choice crystals. And I was rather hoping to keep them around for other uses."_

_Quickly, the Goblin King pulled back a few inches to better see Sarah's face, ignoring her impatient whimper at the loss of contact. Her pout turned into yet another staring contest when she looked up to see his eyes boring into hers, one dark and smoldering and the other clear and intense as blue fire. Whether or not he found what he was searching for in her answering jade eyes, he adopted a self-satisfied smirk that curled upwards from his pointed eyeteeth. Sarah's heart thumped in her throat with a mixture of indignant pride and desire - how dare he look so smug and so sexy while doing it! She bit her lip to keep from making a sound of want, but her hips betrayed her, wriggling slightly as if to bury herself deeper into Jareth's embrace. This was, of course, not missed by the Goblin King._

_"Well, tra-la-la." His predator's grin returned with full force, making Sarah's stomach clench and liquidize all at the same time. When his lips finally began flirting with hers, she could have melted with heat and impatience. She could feel his hands gaining confidence over the terrain of her body, exploring. "This should be fun."_

_Sarah was very much inclined to agree, tilting her head so that the angle of the kiss deepened, and his gloved hands glided smoothly over the dip of her waist. She sighed and they edged lower, over her hips. She groaned, and they pioneered still farther, towards the length of her thigh –_

_– Her eyes snapped open in alarm._

She had not shaved her legs.

_As soon as the thought occurred to her, her pants vanished into thin air… revealing legs that had not been shaved in at least three weeks. Frozen under the Goblin King's faltering kiss, Sarah watched in absolute horror as the unappealing appendages before her began to grow hair as though they were enchanted by some freakish fairy tale curse. The Goblin King had stilled completely now, ogling her legs in a way that was anything but complementary, just as she was. What had started as a heady dream was quickly turning into a freakish night terror._

_Meanwhile, the hair on her legs was thickening and lengthening at inhuman rates. In the space of a mortified gasp, she had legs that brought to mind words like 'Wildebeest' or 'Sasquatch'. Startled, the Goblin King moved from his straddling position to leap lithely over the opposite arm of the loveseat. Sarah, on the other hand, was pinned to the spot and kept on full display by some unseen force that would not obey her will. In the next long moments of scrambling for ashamed cover, the hair grew to become feet long, seemingly acquiring sentience as it morphed. She shrieked as the Leg Hair from Hell rose up like a giant cobra and struck out, winding around the escaping Goblin King like a vice with a vengeance._

_Her leg hair began to curl around her own body, pulling her closer to the struggling Goblin King, and Sarah was reminded freakishly of a spider mummifying insects in layers of silky threads. Tighter, tighter the threads pulled, all the while growing longer and thicker from the legs that she had_ simply forgotten to shave! _She gasped and saw dark spots and then they were tumbling, a feeling of weightlessness hindered by merciless bindings –_

* * *

–  _Thud._

Sarah awoke with a start, chest heaving, sweat coating her brow, and crumpled in an awkward position with one leg wedged uncomfortably beneath her. Wildly, she took in her surroundings, disoriented by the seemingly unfamiliar landscape. Where was the loveseat? Why was there no handsome blond man staring at her? Why did her body still feel like it was being suffocated by a cocoon?

Was that a dust bunny she had just met eyes with?

Blinking the crust of disoriented sleep from her eyes, Sarah squinted and took a longer moment to decode her situation. First, she realized that she was on the floor – that would explain the dust bunny. Furthermore, this was not the floor of her living room – this was the floor of her makeshift bedroom, filled similarly with books, a writing desk, a bed with a shallow bed frame, and her a simple vanity and mirror. This would explain the lack of the loveseat.

Perhaps most importantly, she  _was_  cocooned – but not in her own mutant leg hair. She was tangled in blankets.

Sarah let out a breathy, ridiculously relieved laugh as the panic began to seep into the floor of her apartment and her rational began to stitch together the pieces. Shakily, she wriggled herself from her tightly wound duvet. Obviously, she had been having a restless night – or morning, she supposed, as bright sunlight filtered in through her windows – of sleep, had wound herself into a tizzy, and had finally propelled herself right off her bed. Tentatively, she rubbed her head, and was met with a minor ache that confirmed her suspicions. Nothing was, in reality, out of the ordinary. Things like this happened all the time.

But really.  _What_ a _dream._

Sarah was also surprised that she could recall it all with unblemished clarity. The beginning was just as detailed and delicious as it had been in real life – and it  _had_ happened, she was sure. The memories came filtering back.

Jareth had pulled her to him, just as he dream had recounted, and she  _had_ compared him to a delightfully rich cheesecake. She even thought that the comment about her being a 'little girl' had been accurately replayed by her brain. The moment her dreamscape had started to take over must have been when the sheets had wrapped around her body enough to make it uncomfortable. As an afterthought, Sarah scratched at her legs.

They were impeccably smooth, as they had been for the last thirteen weeks. The good – or bad, depending on the perspective – thing about constantly hoping to get lucky meant that she was constantly ready for anything 'lucky' to happen, which included shaved legs, a lacy bra, and a consistent dosage of a certain pill in the morning. Where her subconscious had pulled  _enchanted leg hair_ from continued to completely mystify her.

Sarah groaned as she stood and began systematically working out the kinks and knots in her muscles. Her left leg was on fire with pins and needles, and her back immediately issued a series of pops and cracks just from the effort of being straightened out. She grimaced as she worked on a particularly stubborn muscle in her lower back.

_If I have to go to the chiropractor because of you, Goblin King…_

She snorted at herself. The threat sounded empty even in her head. Then she tried to ignore the growing heat in her cheeks as she surveyed the damage in her room done from the previous night, and allowed her memories to come filtering back.

The small bookcase in her room had been knocked askew, and several novels lay spread-eagle with their pages open to the floor. She vaguely remembered shoving His Royal Highness against the bookshelf in an animalistic haze and urge to get to the bed while simultaneously undressing as much as possible. Snickering as she recovered her indignant books to their rightful places, she half-heartedly hoped he woke up with a nasty bruise for all the trouble she was going to in this aftermath. Several photos and frames had been displaced or knocked on their faces. The mirror on her vanity had been nudged so that it faced downwards. What was worse, when she moved to straighten it, she came face-to-face with a harsh reality: hair fit to nest in, sleep-lines engraved on the right side of her face, and a dried trail of spit on her cheek. She stuck a tongue out at her reflection and attempted to scrub her features back into normalcy. Ick.

Ultimately, she avoided righting her photos. She did not think she had the courage to face Toby and her parents right now without feeling like a terrible person.

 _But why should I?_  She thought defensively as she picked up random articles of clothing from around the room. A few of them were torn.  _I am an adult with certain needs, and I took the steps that I needed to take to ensure that those needs were taken care of!_

Thoroughly, in fact. And several times over.

Needless to say, she had not been disappointed. She had, in fact, been delighted to discover that his perpetually too-tight trousers did  _not_ lie about their wares, and she had taken as much as she could afford. He also had been incredibly skilled - though, perhaps that was to be expected by a being who had apparently lived for millennia. All too quickly, he had discovered all of the secrets about her body that she barely understood herself, and had worked her body beyond the edge and back more times than she could count. He had been demanding when she needed him to be, had backed off and played coy when she needed to feel empowered, and had danced to the archaic tune of her desire as if he had been rehearsing for years. In short, he had completely obliterated the itch that had been growing inside of Sarah for the past several months. Though she liked to think that it certainly had not been boring for him, she had to admit even to herself that she had probably gotten the better end of the bargain. How could she not have? She was only twenty-three, for crying out loud, and had only slept with one man thus far in her life - whereas  _he_ had been masterful, fantastic, breathtaking, and utterly…  _addicting_.

Sarah threw her lacy bra into a dirty clothes basket and groaned into her hands, sitting heavily on the edge of her very unmade bed. She was kidding herself – this all very much felt like she had made a naïve, hasty,  _childish_ mistake.

It was a good sign, she supposed, that there had been no evidence of the Goblin King once she had awoken. At least he had not misunderstood – she in no way wanted a relationship out of this. But then, what did that make her? A harlot? She was giving her body out to a man in return for a potentially long-term favor that, come to think of it, she had no idea how to execute. How was she any better than a common tramp?

"Might as well slap a tattoo over my butt and call it good," she grumbled to herself. Then she shook her head and sat a little straighter. Self-deprecation had never been her cup of tea.

_You are not selling out your body – you are taking what you need and want from his._

It also was not as if she was forcing herself to keep his company; he was actually a wonderful source of conversation, as she had been surprised to find out. So this was more like… a friends with benefits arrangement. Yeah.

_But wait a minute…_

She slumped back down, head returning to hands, as she thought about what she had just labeled this as.  _Friends with benefits?_ If the countless novels and movies were anything to go by, she had just condemned herself to falling in love in a comedic fashion, before encountering some misunderstanding or conflict, before finally having a happily ever after with the one and only Goblin King.

"What have I done?" she asked her palms. They continued to cradle her face, but offered up no answer.

_I've made a mistake. A mistake. A mistake! A terrible mistakemistakemistake –_

Why had she even wanted to find a good guy to sleep with in the first place? If she had just wanted a physical relationship, wasn't a good body enough? This thought gave her pause. After all, why  _was_  she so hung up on the Goblin King? Attractiveness should have been enough, right?

When she thought back to the Dreaded Thirteen, however, none of them had been remotely physically appealing because she could not be attracted to them mentally. It was the principal of the thing. For instance, Number Nine had actually been pretty attractive, but his piggishness was an immediate turn off. Number Three had been a downright hunk, but had been self-absorbed and also gay. There was nothing for it.

These past thirteen weeks had shown her that finding someone who was both physically appealing and mentally tolerable was incredibly difficult. Now that she had a solution in her grasp, who was she to second-guess herself into letting it go? She deserved this, dammit! It might mean that she was going to be sleeping with one man – because she certainly did not have the energy to find anyone else, and there was really no need anyway – but that was safer anyway! If she tried sleeping with any man, willy-nilly, not only would she increase her chances of a complicated relationship, she would also increase her chances of sexually transmitted disease!

"That's right!" she shouted, standing excitedly. Startled, she looked around, feeling sheepish at the outburst. Nevertheless, she felt her insecurities and panic subside. She  _did_ deserve better than the aching dissatisfaction that she had been left with after D-… after  _That._

Sure, sleeping with the Goblin King might be an unwise decision. But what the hell – she was twenty three! She had never done something even remotely reckless before, and it was about time she cashed in her goodie-two-shoes brownie points and had some fun.

Feeling at once cleansed and suddenly aware of her body odor, Sarah peeled off her flimsy night tank top and headed to the shower. It was time for a self-indulgent reward. Let the bubble bath begin!

Alas, her displaced nightstand had other plans, as it promptly leapt into her path and brutally bashed in her poor toes. Cursing loudly, she made the unwise move of kicking the offending piece of furniture, only succeeding in more mess to clean up and further throbbing in her foot. As if to spite her, it tipped over and spilled out its meager contents with a dramatic c _rash!_ She growled at it for good measure. It probably thought that it was being a martyr, or something.

"You'll gain no sympathy from me, you –  _hey_ ," she cut off her own tirade. Brows furrowed, she bent to move aside the wreckage and get a closer look at the white paper that had caught her eye. When she got ahold of her prize, she was surprised to find that she held a plain manuscript printed on regular printing paper. Her eyes widened in recognition when she realized what it was.

In her own scrawling handwriting on the makeshift cover page was the title  _The Chronicles of the Labyrinth._

"Wow… I had forgotten about this." She offered a small, wistful smile to the neglected manuscript, briefly thumbing through all of the pages as if to recount all of her adventures in a few seconds. She had written this during the summer of her freshman year of college, and had promptly shoved it in a drawer and never looked back. Apparently, it had never left that drawer, even staying there through her move from her college dorm to her current apartment. She had been quite content to forget about it.

In fact, she had never felt comfortable with publishing her Labyrinth Chronicles. Perhaps it was because it was so personal… but a small part of her also felt as though it was a child's fantasy that she was better off leaving alone. Aside from her friendships with Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and Ludo, the whole Labyrinth escapade had been rather embarrassing. She had had just about every one of her immature faults flaunted in her face. What was worse, however, was that she was never quite sure how she would measure up in the face of those same challenges and lessons even now. After all, was it possible for a person to really change that much?

Sarah pursed her lips and pulled the chastised bedside table to an upright position, before returning the manuscript back to its now-broken drawer. These were the dangerous questions that she had sought to bury in the first place. Best to leave sleeping dogs lie.

Besides, she had found writing success elsewhere just fine, thank you very much. Her only published work to date,  _The Chemistry of Words,_ was praised by a handful of critics as a fusion of non-fiction analysis and fictional writing. It was an in-depth look into what makes literature so magnetic to human minds, and what makes some writing spark where other writing is dull. In order to fully emphasize her points, she had written a short story alongside each chapter that worked to illustrate and support her analysis. It had not made anyone's bestseller list, but she liked to think that it was one of a kind. The extra pocket money that it earned was nothing to sniff at as well.

As Sarah turned on the tap in her full bath – the prized treasure of her apartment – she allowed her uncertainties to melt away with the rising steam. Pouring in a healthy dose of bubble bath, she tested the water before finally sinking in and sighing in utter bliss and contentment. The warm water felt like heaven on her sore muscles, and she soon found herself slinking into the bath until bubbles tickled her nose. Her head leant back onto the edge of the tub as her neck muscles released all tension. Her eyes closed, and she felt like she was floating in a pool of pure, lily-scented happiness.

_I haven't felt this good in ages…_

"Well, that looks fun. Mind if I join?"

Happy moment shattered, Sarah's eyes snapped open and all muscles were taut as a tightrope in a fraction of a second. She had the good sense to experience a moment of sheer panic at hearing a man's voice in her  _private_ and  _locked_ bathroom… before letting out a sigh that was both relieved and peeved.

"After scaring me half to death? I think not." She rolled her eyes at the Goblin King, who was smirking and leaning against her bathroom sink with all the sumptuousness that must have come with his job description.

He feigned a pout, but shrugged it off when she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Actually, my dear, I have actually come with a more… business related purpose."

She stared at him, before looking pointedly at her bubbles. "I don't suppose it could have waited…?"

His smirk became predatory once more. "And miss such a delectable display? Never."

Sarah flushed (though gods knew why, after all she had been through), and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well if you expect me to get out for your 'business', you are sadly mistaken."

He looked unperturbed. "Of course not, precious. I only came by to warn you."

Her eyebrow returned to its raised position.  _Is that a threat, Goblin King?_

"The chance for you to uphold your end of our  _deal_  has already presented itself."

Sarah blinked in surprise. "Oh… well, okay then." What had she been expecting? To be thrown into an oubliette?

Suddenly intent, the Goblin King leaned towards her. "Do you understand what this means?"

Avoiding his gaze, she swirled bubbles around her. To be honest, she had no clue, but she did not want the Goblin King to know that she had made a promise that she had little idea of how to keep. "Well…"

"It  _means_ that the Fey Queen is holding a grandiose ball in order to celebrate the wedding of her youngest son. And  _you,_ my dear," he had the gall to reach out and  _boop_ her on the nose. She glared and flicked some bubbles at him, which he ignored and avoided. "Will be accompanying me as my fresh Fey bride."

"Okay…"

"And that is all!" He stood with a flourish and summoned a crystal, presumably to transport himself with. She stared at him in utter confusion, until:

"You have one week to learn all of the etiquette of the Fey Court. I'll be by tomorrow to drop off some light reading material. Enjoy your afternoon!"

" _Jare-!"_

But he was already gone in a poof of magic. Sarah gaped, aghast, at where the devilish Goblin King had stood triumphant only moments ago.

_He's trying to kill me!_

Feeling annoyingly amused and rankled at the same time, she let her head fall back to  _thunk_ against the generic bathroom tile. A moment later, she cursed aloud to the trembling and quickly dissolving bubbles.

_And I have to meet Hoggle in a few hours!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Plea: Chemistry folks? Any advice/commentary would be wonderful.


	3. Toil and Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTES**
> 
> 1) As of May 5th, the season has been changed to Autumn to place Sarah at the beginning of her senior year in college. It works better with the story, and I wanted to make sure everyone saw that update.
> 
> 2) As of June 18th, the ball is now taking place in a FORTNIGHT (two weeks), not one week. As an academic, I realized how unrealistic it was to have Sarah read three history books in one week when she actually has a life. Not that two weeks is fantastically better... but as long as she becomes a hermit, I think she can manage.
> 
> Whew! Now that I'm done rambling... enjoy the show! You earned it!
> 
> Disclaimers: I reference several other literary works in this chapter, including stuff from Hans Christian Anderson, the Grimm Brothers, and Christina Rossetti. Considering the popularity of the fanfic 'The Goblin Market', I also feel is it prudent to assign credit to writer Viciously Witty for making the connection in the first place. Thanks!
> 
> AD: I would like everyone to know that I also have a fanfiction account, which receives just a little bit more love and punctuality than this account does, for this simple reason that I've had much longer. My username there is "Star Crossed Writer" in case you want to look it up and read "The Deal" over there!

Chapter Three - Toil and Trouble

"An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered" – G.K. Chesterton,  _On Running After One's Hat_

oOo

Several hours after the sealing of their 'deal', Jareth was only just returning to the Underground as the sun of the Goblin Kingdom began to rise. Jareth transported himself to the throne room with a haphazardly summoned crystal, feeling fatigue drag in his lungs like an anchor. Changing into an owl would have used less energy, but he found that he had little desire to waste time, and crystal transportation was much faster. His mind was full of possibilities and plans to be made, and he found that he often had the easiest time concentrating in the throne room… at least, when it was not infested with goblins.

Fortunately, the goblins had a very low tolerance for boring situations. With the lack of ale, chickens, or screaming stolen babies to occupy them, the throne room was blessedly empty and peaceful. Jareth threw himself into his place and began to think, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve an oncoming headache. Briefly, he felt annoyed at the fact that this  _conundrum_ of a woman would be getting more sleep than he, due to the time difference between the two realms, but he shrugged the sentiment away. He would likely not have been able to sleep in any case.

The deal itself was not really what was bothering him - this was not, after all, the first time that he had spent beneath human sheets. In fact, thinking back to Sarah's particular appetite brought a smirk to his lips. Who would have thought that the next time he met her, the defiant little girl would have become such a demanding woman with an agenda up her sleeve? Yet, he knew she was not one to toss herself about carelessly. He had seen such souls in his thousands of years of watching humans - their dreams were often weak, or they lacked the experience to know the difference between lust and love. Sarah obviously had no such trouble discerning between the two. He also doubted she had been lying about her period of celibacy, which meant that she was certainly not one to take any man that could satisfy her whims.

As to the strength of her dreams, there was no question. Sarah Williams was one of the brightest Dreamers that he had ever encountered. It surprised him to see such an intoxicating combination within a single human, and this was perhaps what was bothering him the most. The truth was, he had made a hobby of observing Sarah's light throughout the years since her encounter with the Labyrinth. As the Goblin King, he was the ear that listened to discarded dreams and wishes. Like all children, Sarah's dreams had been bright and heavy with wonder and belief - this was the main source of his current business, unreliable as it was. Although children believed the most, their dreams and wishes were the most fickle, and often times Jareth found that little could be done with them. In ages past, even as humans grew older, they had a much closer relationship with and curiosity about the Underground. This allowed Jareth to harvest useful dreams and wishes from the minds of humans - the strongest of these were what Jareth deemed the Dreamers. Recently, however, true Dreamers mostly ceased to exist past the teenage years.

This was why Sarah had made such an impression upon Jareth, even after her visit to the Labyrinth. When she left his kingdom in ruins, he had been resigned to the loss of another Dreamer, prepared to look elsewhere. Yet, each night, when her dreams continued to glow bright, he began to keep a closer eye on her, wondering if she would defy his expectations once more. Imagine his surprise when this nondescript human woman effortlessly managed to meld two completely different worlds - she kept up an ordinary human existence while still visiting certain inhabitants of the Labyrinth, and continued to have the bright dreams of an innocent. As he began looking closer, he was able to tell how certain events impacted her dreams by listening to the talk of her Labyrinth friends. Hoggle spoke of a kind of human science that Sarah had quickly become obsessed with, and her dreams had sparkled with knowledge and possibilities. A death in her family when she was nineteen had colored her dreams with fear and depression for half a year before she began to heal. Not long after, Sir Didymus was complaining with Hoggle about some man that Sarah had taken an interest in, and her dreams had bloomed with romance. Slowly, the blush faded, so he had assumed that it had come to nothing. Her dreams had regulated after that, always about hopeful sentiments about the future. Her life was very human, and her belief was unnatural, but she never made wishes.

Roughly four months ago, however, he began noticing a change that made him uneasy. Her dreams took on a jagged edge, fitful and tumultuous. One night, he was actually distracted whilst eating his dinner by the force of the vengeful anger and hurt that radiated from her dreams, which he had become used to in the back of his mind. He listened to the conversations of her friends, and it was obvious they saw a change in her as well, but he never learned the source. He feared for a while that this bout of dark emotion would sully her belief - it was common amongst humans that anything which could trigger a sense of betrayal caused disillusionment, or detachment from magic. It was both a relief and a concern when he saw that not only did her belief not diminish, it actually made her anguish more long-lasting. The fresh burn faded from her dreams, but they remained tense and foreboding.

Finally, one unsuspecting night while he was idly conjuring crystals, he heard her almost-wish. If it had been anyone else, he may not have heard it because of her (likely purposeful) omission of the words 'I wish'. He was so accustomed to Sarah's mind, however, that he found that he was most at ease when he had her essence close in a corner of his mind, like background music. It was then that he heard her words, jaded but with the slightest thread of hope attached. It had been just enough for him to be able to latch onto it and trace it to her.

_Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be… take this bad dating streak of mine far away from me!_

He had nearly laughed out loud at the odd request, a mockery of those spiteful lines she had spoken so long ago to her baby brother. Gleefully, he had not hesitated to act. Of course, the welcome he had received was completely unexpected. Antagonism, fear, distrust he had expected… but an offer for tea?  _Peach_ tea at that? He chuckled into his glove, even as he sat in contemplation in his silent throne room.

_And now, here we are._

She was delectable, there was no doubt about that. Crafty, witty, vivacious, sensual… it had been no chore accepting her little deal. He found that the taste of her was seasoned by her belief, as if she held her own kind of magic that he was not sure he had ever tasted before. After all, it was not common for a Fey to have such  _intimate_ relations with a Dreamer. It was much more common for him to take the energy and payment from a wish and be done with it. Sarah, on the other hand, did not seem to be quite as disposable.

She was a puzzle, which was remarkable in itself. Jareth had been living for nearly eight thousand years, and had been considered an adult Fey for nearly five thousand. On top of  _that,_ he had been the ruler of the Goblin Kingdom for nearly four thousand **.** Humans, as full of life as they were, were more likely than not to repeat themselves… but he was unsure if he had ever met Sarah's equal. If he had, he felt that he should have remembered it. In fact, this was the only reason why he thought that she may actually be able to fulfill her side of the bargain. It was all rather exciting and new. He wondered if this was what humans felt when they gambled. He grinned - and what delightfully high stakes he was gambling with.

With an abrupt slap on his thigh, Jareth shifted himself in his seat and came to stand, heading towards his bed chamber. He needed to change into something more formal. Mother was, after all, a woman of tradition.

He needed to inform her that he had found a bride - and needed to think up his bride's identity in the meantime.

* * *

As he was shown into the luxuriously decorated castle, Jareth rehearsed his fabricated circumstances in his head. He could not lie directly to his mother, of course. Even if Fey  _could_ lie, he was almost positive that she would be able to catch him in the act. Therefore, he had been obliged to bend the truth.

The sun room in which he found his mother resembled her in every way he could fathom. Delicate, articulate, masterful, and with a subtle overbearingness, as if she was marking her territory with every golden trinket and crystal decoration.

"Jareth, my son. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Jareth bowed as mandated courtesy, and she inclined her head to indicate his seat. He took it without a word and wasted no time.

"I am here to inform you that you no longer need to play matchmaker where I am concerned, mother."

As he might have expected, his mother stiffened and began to watch him with a hard look in her wintery eyes. "Jareth, for the last time, you  _must_ find a woman -"

" - who has already agreed to be my queen and has become intimately acquainted with the Labyrinth."

For a moment, Jareth savored the baffled look on his mother's face. "Pardon?"

"I have found a bride, mother - all on my own, though I know you thought me incapable. We do quite well together."

Now she eyed him suspiciously. "Indeed?" When he only smiled in affirmative, she narrowed her eyes. Let the battle begin. "What is her name?"

"Flaitha." It was a name derived from the Gaelic word 'flaith' which meant 'princess', which was also what 'Sarah' meant in the human language of Hebrew. Technically, in Gaelic, Sarah's name  _was_ Flaitha. It also suited his needs because Gaelic was a language shared by humans and Fey within the Underground. Score one for Jareth.

"Indeed? She does not sound familiar. From whence does she come?"

"She is a nymph from an ailing water kingdom with the rare gift of fertility. Already she has changed much within the Goblin Kingdom, and I find her unlike any other woman I have ever met." In this case, he decided to use the term  _nymph_ very loosely, although his mother was none the wiser. In human slang, Sarah was indeed a nymph in that she was an attractive woman who desired an intimate relationship on her own terms. She also came from Earth, which is a planet made mostly of water, but which was also extremely polluted, hence the 'ailing' bit. Finally, the gift of belief could be considered a gift of fertility, as it had the ability to create things which Fey could not. It could also be assumed that Sarah, being human, was capable of childbirth, which was also considered extremely valuable, as Fey often had difficulty conceiving without help. Not that he was interested in her childbearing abilities. His mother, however, need not know that.

His mother raised her eyebrows. "You expect me to accept a little known nobility from a dying kingdom? How characteristically bold, Jareth dear."

Jareth grinned, partially because his mother simply assumed that Sarah was nobility. He may not be able to lie, but the power of deception was one of his specialties."I would never want to disappoint your expectations, mother. Flaitha, however, I believe is … worth it."

That much was true, at least. Sarah was worth this trouble, if only for the simple reason that she was a mystery to him. Novelty was precious for the Fey, who had a much longer lifespan to occupy than most other living beings.

His mother looked deeply into his eyes, as if trying to discern truth from tall tale. He met her gaze confidently and latched on to the sentiment that Sarah was his ticket out of this mess. As long as he seemed firm in his choice, and devout to the idea of his 'Flaitha', his mother need not know the reasons why. He forced his heart beat to stay calm, a feat only manageable after countless such staring contests with his mother. She had the eyes of a dragon - powerful in that they could make a seasoned warrior feel vulnerable. Luckily, Jareth was not nearly as brave and honorable as a seasoned warrior. He was much more apt to take the clever route, whether or not it included trickery.

Her eyes were ice blue, a common color among Fey, with favorably small pupils that indicated her noble birth. So different from Sarah's smoky green, dilated with excitement and pleasure - and yet, although his mother's were the ideal of the Underground, Jareth found Sarah's so much more enthralling. He found himself almost regretting the fact that his mother would likely never see Sarah's true eyes, because to do so would foil everything. If she were not human, Jareth thought that his mother might even agree that she was a unique being indeed. Unknowingly, an odd mixture of excitement and desire made Jareth's lips quirk and a new glimmer come over his eyes. His mother blinked, allowing the slightest of muscles to crease her brow.

Whatever she made of his almost  _romantic_ gaze, she was finally the first to cave and turn away. The composure of the regal woman cracked enough for her to pinch the bridge of her nose, a trait that Jareth had definitely picked up over the years.

"Very well. There will be a ball in a fortnight. You will bring her and introduce her to the Court then. Understood?"

Jareth grinned widely, not bothering to hide the triumph in his eyes. He stood and bowed without waiting for a dismissal. "Of course, mother. I would not miss it for the world."

As he strolled out of his mother's highly fashionable courtyard, he began to make his plans. A visit to his precious "fiancé" was in order.

* * *

Quiet night sounds filtered into the room as the window was nudged open by unseen hands, allowing deceptively serene moonlight to wash upon the sleeping figure in the bed. Moments later, a barn owl took the liberty of sailing past the windowsill, toting an unwieldy package in his talons. In a whirlwind of sparkling magic, the owl disappeared and was replaced by a very odd man who knew he had to be very quiet, because he had not been invited to this particular midnight tryst.

The woman in the bed stirred and muttered softly in her sleep, but otherwise showed no awareness of his presence. Jareth breathed a sigh of relief. He was not technically supposed to interact with the human world when uninvited, but he was able to bend the rules, firstly because he had previously informed Sarah that he would be doing this and she had not forbidden him. Secondly, he was not  _interacting_ with the human world per se… merely leaving a gift.

A very unladylike snore ripped through the silence and Jareth nearly jumped. A moment later, staring at the bed with bulging eyes, he had to bite his lip from laughter and nearly wished out loud that Sarah had woken up. Of course, he restrained himself, because a wish from the  _Goblin King_  of all people would not have been received well by the Underground. Nevertheless, how much pleasure would he have gained from the expression on her face… he once again restrained a chuckle. It almost would have made the ugly bruise on his hip worth the whole ordeal. In any case, he was well and sure now that Sarah was unlikely to awake from this rather ungraceful slumber of hers. A smaller snore and a nuzzle into her pillow confirmed Jareth's hypothesis.

The impish man eyed the room with the air of one who expects to become very familiar with his surroundings very quickly. He was amused to see that the room had been completely restored from it's previous damage… save for a few family portraits which remained turned downwards. He did allow a soft chuckle at this, imagining the innocence of embarrassment within the same woman who had basically attacked him barely a night ago. In one night, she had managed to remind him of the ferocity and passion that so drew him to humankind and rekindle his link to the Aboveground.

Fey could not lie; when he told Sarah about the Goblin Kingdom's disconnection from the human realm, he had not been exaggerating. The Goblin Kingdom was unique in all of the Underground in that it thrived off of humanity in ways that the rest of the Fey Realm did not. Namely, this was through human emotion and imagination - the magic of dreams and wishes. Whereas Fey lives glowed calmly for thousands of years and generally resisted change, human lives sparked and burned and never hesitated to change their surroundings, lucky to live over one hundred. Most Fey sought to use humans because of this difference, seeking human energy as nothing more than a source of fuel.

Jareth found a different use within his kingdom, which was admittedly why it was in such bad shape. He used human wishes and dreams to alter the Underground reality within his realm, harnessing it to become a vehicle of change. The problem with this was that wishes and dreams had to be given freely, and within the last century they had simply… stopped. Either humans had stopped believing in their wishes and dreams, or they held onto them so firmly that he would never be able to touch them.

A groan and a restless flop from the bed jarred Jareth from his pensive mood, and reminded him of his mission. Without a sound, he placed his parcel on Sarah's already cluttered bedroom bookshelf. This was the 'light reading' he had informed her of - three hefty tomes that were the bare basics of what she needed to know for the social event hosted in a fortnight. Fearless champion of the Labyrinth or not, Sarah was mortal, and he knew that she would be ripped to shreds - possibly both figuratively and literally - if she did not know the rules of the game she was being thrown into. Briefly, Jareth felt the hollow of guilt wash down his spine, but he turned to leave before he thought too much of it. It had been  _her_ idea, after all.  _Her_ deal. He was simply in it to get the court off of his back so that he could live in peace. After all, Sarah had been very clear in her terms: she did not want someone with whom to share her nighttime thoughts or to comfort her worries.

Yet, as he laid a hand on the windowsill, a distressed sound from the bed gave him pause. When he turned, Sarah was facing his direction, eyes squeezed tight, brow puckered, and breathing uneven. Something about the pain in her face, the way her sleeping form curled in on itself, made Jareth instantly and insatiably ache to know the source of her discomfort. Of course, he could not see into her dreams themselves - he was uninvited. However, for the first time since his arrival, Jareth allowed himself to see the aura of her dreams.

Jareth's magic was very different from typical Fey magic, which could generally manipulate the physical world in various ways, either Aboveground or Underground. A very select few of Fey were born, as the inhabitants of the Underground sneered behind their hands, as 'touched'. Jareth preferred to call it the Human Sight, especially because it was always accompanied by the physical attribute of abnormal eye color or pattern. With this power, he was able to see that which humans could not express physically, and that which could therefore not be manipulated by any other Fey; their dreams and wishes. Without permission or a solid link to a human's mind, however, he could only see the aura of a dream, or it's essence.

As expected, the aura of Sarah's current dream was nothing romantic. It was very unexpected, however, that seeing it made his breath catch with unbidden emotion and an unnameable ache. Stealthily, feeling as though he was being drawn in by something very much forbidden, he stepped over to Sarah's bedside and pressed a knee into her mattress. As if in a trance, he removed the glove from his right hand and ghosted a caress over the sleeping woman's outline, watching in fascination as her aura responded to and eddied around his magic.

Naturally, she was having a very unpleasant dream, whatever it was. The aura was dark and murky, shielding some beast within her dreams that he had the oddest desire to protect her from. Through his magic, he sensed only confusion, anguish, and fear, rippling through his own body and making his gut clench. There was something different, however, about this dream that he had not experienced in a very long time. The one thing that had so drawn him to Sarah, the thing that made even this distinctly unappetizing metallic taste of nightmare a rare delicacy, was her  _belief._ Threads of true belief were what distinguished Sarah from the majority of humans. They were what made her experiences in the Labyrinth so life-changing for both herself and his kingdom. It was also, unfortunately, what made her dreams and  _nightmares_ so incredibly vivid… and what made her so irresistible to the Goblin King. He was no fool. There was no love between them, truly. His offer to her so long ago - "Just love me, fear me, do as I say, and I will be your slave" - had been to appeal to her dreams, which were structured around that fantasy book of hers. If, by chance, she had accepted, he would have been free to draw as much power as he needed from her dreams and the potency of her belief. Indeed,  _she_ would have been  _his_ slave more than anything, although he would not have treated her as such. He found that such degradation of human kind never sat well with him.

Instead, now all he could do was play with the aura of this Dreamer, the equivalent of basking in the aroma of an exquisite meal. Though Sarah never knew, he had never forgotten about her in the years after her debut at the Labyrinth. She would not let him. The luminescence of her dreams was addicting as a beckoning light in the darkness, especially when all other candles in the world were being habitually extinguished by antipathy and disbelief.

Unwittingly, his ungloved hand lowered itself to whisper through the silk of her hair, and her responding gasp startled him into awareness. Quickly, he retrieved the straying appendage and donned his glove… but he noticed that even in doing so, Sarah's aura was changing. He grimaced. So much for leaving this Dreamer unaltered for lack of permission. It was clear that her dream was responding to the longing in his touch as he watched the aura change. Her brow was slowly smoothed out from its pinch, and the sheen of sweat on her face was dissipating. A light smile began tugging at her lips as the cloudiness of the dream began to be swept away by a much clearer aura. It sparkled now, and he could see the brilliancy of the threads of belief like a spider web made of unicorn hair weaving within it. Gradually, as Sarah's color returned and her breathing evened out once more, deep threads of reds and purples began to seep into the aura. Jareth smiled knowingly.

"Dreaming of me already, precious?" he murmured. "You truly are insatiable."

As if in response, Sarah turned in bed to show him her back, flippant even in sleep… but the erotic combination of colors within her dream aura did not dissipate. Chuckling again, Jareth rose and cast a parting glance at his 'gift' on her bookcase, waiting patiently for Sarah to discover it in the morning.

Without warning, an impish and holey unnecessary idea manifested in his mind, and Jareth smiled furtively. With a few fluid movements, he tinkered with the placement of some of her books and left a second 'gift' where she would hopefully not be able to find it. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he had to admit to himself that, with or without the deal, this was the most fun he had had in years.

Bidding adieu to Sarah's increasingly lustful dream aura, Jareth bowed and took up his position by the windowsill. The trickling night sounds were muffled as before, as the bedroom window latched itself shut quietly. A barn owl glided away into the dark sky as Sarah Williams slept on, oblivious and burdened with gifts yet to be received. She giggled and sighed in her sleep.

"Stop it, that tickles…"

* * *

When Sarah awoke, it was because of the terrible taste in her mouth, and it was with the heady sense of naughty memories trailing her psyche. Mistakenly, she attempted to swallow, and only grimaced when the back of her throat panged and it continued to taste as though she had had Bog Soup for dinner last night. The pale light at her window told her that it was early in the morning, but she knew there was no way she could sleep now. Groaning and squinting all the way, she reluctantly swung her legs over the side of her bed.

 _Besides,_ she attempted to console herself.  _You have a class today - would have had to get your lazy bum off the bed sometime, Sarah._

She sighed and folded in on herself with an impressive slouch. Sometimes, she hated it when she was right.

After purifying her mouth from the curse of morning breath and taking a quick (and cold) shower, Sarah felt much better about being a living human being. Thankfully, Mondays for this semester were occupied only by a Shakespearean period class, which was part of her English major. The best part was that it started at 11:30. No offense to the Bard, of course.

Strolling over to her bookshelf, Sarah wondered what she would read in her leisure time until then. Because it was so early in the semester, they had yet to be assigned any specific Shakespeare novel, but perhaps she could hit up one of the classics.

The unfamiliar bundle on top of her bookshelf gave her pause. It was wrapped in cloth and bound with a plain leather strap, and she  _definitely_ had not placed it there. Feeling instantly paranoid, she stopped breathing and listened for any suspicious ticking noises, thinking back to Number Five (A.K.A. The Stalker). All she knew was that there was a nondescript, alien package sitting in her personal bedroom when the front door was  _locked_ , and that meant that there was a stranger who had come into her room while she was  _sleeping -_

Wait. Something about this situation was familiar. No, it wasn't the time when Number Three broke in to make her dinner, that was old news… Ah yes. Jareth and the Bubble Bath Incident.

Instantly she felt a little less on edge.  _In fact, hadn't he said something about coming to leave me something?_

Hesitantly, she edged forward and inspected the parcel more closely without touching it. Sure enough, under the leather ties, a scrawled message read:

_Remember, two weeks, precious. It's longer than you think, and time is short._

She rolled her eyes, both at herself and at the Goblin King. She supposed that it was only to be expected that he would so obviously make a cheesy reference to their first interaction, but what had  _she_ expected? A cardboard box from FedEx? With a long-suffering sigh, any remaining tension seeped out of her shoulders, and she began to unwrap the package.

The package was made up of three very old-looking, leather-bound books. One was massive, with a spine nearly two inches thick, and looked like it could be used to bludgeon someone to death. The second was a little less than one inch in width, but was much longer - roughly twelve-by-eight inches in dimension. When she flipped it open, she discovered that the long pages were sometimes devoted to detailed sketches of different historical scenes with lengthy descriptions. The third and final book looked the most manageable, about the size of the average hardcover novel and looking the most new out of the three amigos. Curiously, Sarah inspected the title, and was surprised to read  _A Detailed Overview of the Current Fey Court,_ by… by Jareth, King of Goblins. Even more surprising was that, when she flipped through it, it seemed surprisingly organized and helpful. The sections were divided into Regions, the Regions were divided into Kingdoms by chapter, and each Fey Court Official had a small sketched portrait and a few pages detailing their character traits, backstories, and 'sticky wickets'... whatever  _that_ meant.

Still preoccupied with her new charges, Sarah shuffled over to her bed and arranged a nice, cozy nest of blankets and pillows. Checking her watch, she noted that she still had a little more than three hours before she needed to leave for her class. Smiling a little to herself, she picked up the most threatening of the three texts and cradled it in her hands with fire in her eyes.

"Okay…  _History of the Labyrinth,_ by… wow, I can't pronounce that _."_ She opened the faded leather-bound page, and snorted when it creaked in the way that old tomes do in scary movies. _"_ Let's do this."

Immediately upon opening up to what Sarah assumed was the introduction, she knew that something was wrong. A split second later, she realized that this was because none of the words were written in English.

"Of all the - !"

 _How am I supposed to read something that I can't_ read _!?_

She was just about to summon Jareth and give him what-for when movement on the page distracted her. At first, she thought it was a fly - but then she realized that the  _letters_ were moving. Sarah watched in amazement as the words and letters on the book lengthened, twisted, morphed, and flew across the page like a circus brigade. It only lasted for a moment, but she was staring in shock long after. Once everything had settled, she looked more closely… and was even more surprised to realize that she could understand the words. It was now written in English.

"Well that's… nifty," she muttered. Still reeling from the shock but knowing that her time was dwindling, Sarah decided to ask Jareth about it later and get to work. She wanted to at least read the first chapter of each book, and did not know how long each one would be. Feeling guilty as her inner academic cringed, Sarah skipped the introduction of the history text, promising to read it later.

_PART I: Chapter One - The Birth of The Labyrinth_

_The beginning of the Rosnorian Era found the land now known of the Goblin Kingdom to be uncivilized and considered impossible to harness. After the Great Divide between Fey and humans, this was a common state across the Underground, as the humans remained in the Aboveground, where much progress had already been made. Elder Rosnor, one of the adult Fey who was alive to remember the banishment from the Above, was frustrated at this setback. He, along with the Ring of Elders, sought to rise above his circumstances and joined his power with the five other elders._

_As any history text will show, Elder Enak and Lady Sothala took control of what has become known as the Inner Circle. Their families and satellite clans became the center of the Underground, presiding over the intellectual advance of Underground methodology and theory. The direct descendants of Elder Enak and Lady Sothala now rule as the High Kings and Queens of the Fey Court. Though their word is considered law, they must hold counsel with the other descendants of the Elders in order to drastically change Underground Law. A brief power struggle in the Sathean Era yielded the result that Sathe, daughter of Elder Lady Sothala, could rule after the resignation of Elder Enak and Sothala. Very few radical changes have occurred since then._

"Well, looks like they got equal rights figured out before we did," Sarah mumbled.

_Elder Begak took control of the Second Ring, which was devoted to the physical development of the Underground. The Second Ring carries out the procedures processed in the Inner Circle, dividing lands by clans and their specialties. For instance, the arid region now known as the Draconian Ridges was given by Elder Begak to the Fire Fey, and also served as a breeding ground for dragons. As such, it has been used as the primary foraging grounds for Fey weaponry ever since. The Second Ring is therefore devoted to the lower tiers of Fey society, including its military, labor, and merchants who travel between the rings._

_Elder Rosnor and Lady Telulla took control of the Outer Ring, which is considered the lowest in rank and influence, but which has yielded some of the most fascinating history. The clans of this ring had and have jurisdiction over Fey interaction with the Aboveground and humankind._

Sarah raised her eyebrows. Things were about to get interesting.

_The Rosnorian Era refers to the first ruler of the Goblin Kingdom, as this was the clan that Rosnor chose to personally reside over. To Lady Telulla he gave the Kingdom of Shades, and to the less powerful Fey who survived the Great Divide, he gave the Kingdoms of Muses, Nymphs, and Imps._

"Well that sounds kind of cool…" Images of Greek mythology and Irish lore danced through her head. 'Shades' sounded vaguely negative, but Muses, Nymphs, and Imps were names she was familiar with. They all seemed either helpful or harmless - it fitted what she knew about the Goblin Kingdom, in any case.

_With the exception of a few lesser breeds of Fey, this began the practice of human enslavement and manipulation for the betterment of the Fey._

"Wait… what?"

Sarah blinked and re-read the sentence a few times to make sure she was understanding it correctly. No matter how many times she went through it, it failed to do the rearranging magic from before to correct itself.

 _'Human enslavement and manipulation'...?_ Sarah thought back to her encounters with the Goblin Kingdom. Aside from the Goblin army and  _maybe_ the Fireys, she could not imagine a single one of the characters she had met to condone human  _enslavement_. Manipulation? Sure - Jareth did it all the time. Stealing human babies and adding them to the Goblin population? It was not impossible. In fact, it had been what Sarah had feared most when she had been fighting for Toby. Stealing humans and forcing them into unpaid labor and servitude? That was an entirely different level.

Sarah had a bad feeling burning into her gut and a curiosity that could not be sated when she turned back to read for more.

_Under Rosnor's rule, the Goblin Kingdom flourished with agriculture and the cultivation of magical foods, drinks, and beautification substances -_

"What? No! I don't want to read about that right now!" She growled at the book and began scanning the pages furiously for any other mention of humans, but to no avail. All she had to go off of was that measly, messed-up sentence. Then the text went back to droning on about Goblin economics or whatever. Hastily, she flipped to the back cover, but was taken off guard when she could find no index. In retrospect, that should not have been very surprising - it wasn't as though she was reading a college textbook. She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "I just want to read about humans, you stupid book! Humans, humans, humans!"

Sarah nearly screamed when the book suddenly burst into light and continued to glow as if from within. She dropped it on the bed, suspecting spontaneous combustion, but paused when it became obvious that the light was not from flame. It was golden, but it was steady and she could not feel any heat coming off of it. After the initial burst, the glow receded a little, and when she looked closer, it seemed as if only a few sections of the thick text were emitting the glow. Her panic ebbed away, and was replaced by intrigue. She squinted at it a little and held her breath.

"What in the world…?"

Gingerly, she grabbed the book once more and opened it. She was taken aback once again when the pages flipped themselve to one of the glowing sections. The glow diminished on the page, but the handful of other sections in the book continued to shine. Sarah scanned the page, and her jaw sagged when her eyes fell on the first heading.

_Development of Human Relations, Rosnorian Era_

"It… heard me?" More than that, it seemed almost as though she had found the 'Control + F' key of the book. If this worked all the time, then it did not  _need_ an Index - the  _reader_  was the index.

Ever the scientist, Sarah decided to do some tests. She cleared her throat. The first time the glowing happened, she had said the same thing three times in a row. "So… erm, book. Um… Jareth, Jareth, Jareth?"

Nothing. Sarah actually had the sense that something was laughing at her, and her cheeks burned. A little more forcefully now, she decided to phrase it differently. "Show me Jareth."

Sarah's eyes lit up when the pages flared to life anew, and nearly clapped with glee when it flipped itself to the first relevant section. When she scanned the page, however, she was disappointed to find that there was only one paragraph, and it was devoted to "Saint Jareth, known as one of the most gifted unicorn tamers and trainers in Underground history".

"Hmph.  _Obviously,_ that is the wrong Jareth." She thought for a moment. "Show me Jareth, King of Goblins."

The amount of glowing pages reduced, and the page was once again flipped for her. This time, when her eyes landed on another gaze and not a sentence of words, she almost gasped. After a moment, she realized that it was only a very vivid miniature portrait of none other than Jareth the Goblin King, looking as arrogant and debonair as ever.

_Well, at least I figured it out._

Sarah was just about to return to reading about humans in the Underground when a section caught her eye.

_Human trafficking was banned under the rule of King Jareth, and any humans ensared under the lawful terms laid out by the king were to be incorporated into daily life in the Goblin Kingdom._

The excerpt went on to say the 'how', 'when', and 'why's of Jareth's ruling, but Sarah found that her mind was occupied enough. Somehow, she did not want to know everything that Jareth had done in his kingdom with humans - not yet, at least. It was something that she would have to prepare herself for mentally. She had definitely had no idea what she had been getting into. With a sigh, she decided that it was probably best to start from the beginning and see where the text took her.

Two hundred pages, a quarter of a notebook, and one hastily-made cup of ramen later, Sarah sat back in her nest of a bad and wiped a hand over her eyes. Her brain felt like it was literally overheating with all the information she had been taking it - and she was not even close to being done! Once she had gotten past the introductory chapter, she had been pulled in and fascinated by the intricacy of the history she was reading. Ever an academic, she had been forced to find a relatively clean notebook and begin writing down the key details of what she read.

She learned that humans had, in fact, been an extensively used source of labor and child bearing for the Underground ever since the Great Divide, which had occurred right around the time that humans had begun to develop written records - roughly 3000 BCE by her estimate. This relationship was because of a few things. Firstly, in the separation and the banishment of Fey to their own realm, the Fey needed a way to make advancements suitable to their intellect without taxing their diminished population. Humankind, being plentiful in the Aboveground, was the easiest solution. Secondly, it had long since been established that Fey, especially women, often had trouble conceiving, which was conjectured to be a side effect of their thousands-of-years life span. Human women were prized for their fertility, and were either abducted to bear children for struggling Fey families, or were tricked in the Aboveground to have their children swapped with Changelings. For this reason, some of the noble blood of the Fey kingdom had mixed with human blood, but these measures were only used in desperate times - otherwise, it was only the Fey in the Second and Outer Rings that used these methods.

She had also read a section that had briefly focused on the Goblin Kingdom's lineage, and she had been shocked to learn that there had been six rulers before Jareth. In every other Outer Ring kingdom that she had read about, there had only been two or three due to the incredibly long spans of Fey life and the fact that these kingdoms were generally not sought after. The Goblin Kingdom, however, had been a land full of competition and prosperity before Jareth's rule. It had been described as a uniquely powerful economic center of the Underground, because it harvested not only the physical power of humans, but spiritual and emotional power as well. Goblins became the most adept at making deals between Aboveground and Underground merchants, influencing lore to increase the levels of belief and fear in the Aboveground, and tricking the innocents of the Aboveground to supply their wares. In turn, the Goblin Kingdom became a bustling center that developed what Sarah had come to term Biological Magic, and which the text referred to as technological advancement. Biological Magic referred to any bewitched or bewitching plant or animal life, and commonly appears in Aboveground lore - magical beans, cursed black cats, and magically altered fruit. It did not surprise Sarah as much as it should have that enchanted peaches were actually not uncommon.

These were all things that Goblins could develop with optimal interaction with the Aboveground. As she read, she could see connections between real Underground history and fictional Aboveground writing. In the beginning stages of the Goblin Kingdom, when agriculture was the greatest export, they used magic fruit to enchant naive Aboveground children and trick them out of their life energy - this came to be known as the Goblin Market Era. As she read this, Sarah remembered a poem written by Christina Rossetti actually titled 'Goblin Market', which fit that description perfectly. Rossetti told a tale of sisterly love defeating the evil magic of the goblins, but the history text in Sarah's lap told her that there were many other naive maidens who were not so lucky.

As goblins began experimenting with inanimate objects, they began to develop what Sarah called Physical Magic, which altered reality otherwise bound by the laws of physics. One example of this was called the Mirror of Deception, which reflected everything that was good in the Aboveground as sickly and evil, and everything that was hideous as pure. This mirror would be used to lure humans to the Underground by making the beholder believe that an ugly goblin was the only trustworthy being around - only to be fooled when they reached the Underground and the mirror would show everything in its true form. Hans Christian Andersen wrote a fairy tale called 'The Snow Queen', which detailed how one of the earlier prototypes of the mirror was destroyed and proceeded to wreck havoc upon mortal children and adults alike. Naturally, it seemed that the Grimm Brothers had encountered more than their fair share of goblins in their day, from a Rumplestiltskin - which she learned was actually a species of Goblins known for their 'Midas Touch' abilities - to the most mischievous 'elf' whose wares were never as free as they were made out to be. Some objects would grant the wish of flight, thereby thwarting gravity. Other objects cast curses that fed on the inner sins of the owner, so that only the most pure of heart could conquer them. Of course,  _these_ were the stories that the Grimm Brothers told, but Sarah knew from experience that not many humans were really all  _that_ pure. Wishful thinking at its finest.

Once she had come up with these two terms - Biological and Physical Magic - she wondered if there was a Chemical Magic as well. This was part of the reason why she had been pushing herself to read so much. Alas, the text was too much for her will to handle, great as it was. If a description of Chemical Magic existed, it would have to wait until her Scholar's Fever died down to tolerable levels. Sarah groaned and used a half-depleted water bottle to splash her burning forehead.

_And I still have a class after this? Ugh…_

In the mind-numbing silence following this thought, Sarah counted the ticks of her wristwatch. The peace did not last for long.

Sarah sat bolt-upright in bed, hair flying and eyes wide with panic.

"Shit! My class!"

In alarm, she checked her watch and nearly choked when she saw that there were only thirty minutes left till the class started - and it took her at  _least_ thirty to walk to campus, let alone the correct building. As Sarah flew around her room, stripping and dressing, and trying to brush her hair and gather her supplies all at once, she decided that she would have to commute by bicycle. The last time she had done that, she had nearly passed out from the force of how out of shape she was.

As Sarah grabbed her apartment keys and ran out the door with her satchel hugged to her chest, she felt the same grim determination she had felt as a fifteen year old tackling something much larger than herself.  _Desperate times, Sarah._

On the bike rack outside of her apartment building stood her deceptively innocent bicycle. Fortunately, the tires had been pumped recently because one of her friends had wanted to go on a outdoors bike trail. Hurriedly tying her bag between the handle bars and unlocking it, Sarah mounted and began pedalling full speed in the direction of campus.

It was only a little more than a mile from her apartment - by all accounts, it should have been a piece of cake. The phrase "should have been", however, did not account for the fact that Sarah had not sweated due to exercise since a belly dancing class five months prior. The dancing had been fun, but the sweating had not been, and her jingly skirt had been collecting dust ever since.

As had her bike, for that matter. Funny, how those kinds of things worked out.

Nevertheless, Sarah ended up cutting her usual walking time in half, despite the huffing, sweating, and most intense stitch in her side that she had ever experienced. She stumbled into the correct building five minutes before the class was scheduled to begin. With shaking legs and a streaming brow, she thanked all of the gods that could hear her that the class was on the first level.

Sarah burst into the period writing class just as everyone was taking their seats and the professor was writing something introductory on her chalk board. Trying - and failing - to attract as few stares as possible, Sarah took a seat in a corner closest to the door and belatedly hoped that she did not smell too horrible. Along the way, however, her trembling thighs sabotaged her and made her trip on her own satchel, causing loose-leaf paper and a battered copy of  _As You Like It_ to go flying.

While she cursed under her breath and scrambled to collect herself, the professor turned to see what the ruckus was about. Seeing Sarah in such a state caused the wry woman, silver hair slicked back in a bun, to arch an eyebrow.

"Glad to see that Shakespeare moves you to such lengths, my dear." There was a murmur of chuckling throughout the room as everyone shuffled to get comfortable.

Struggling to catch her breath even now, Sarah finally gathered her stuff sufficiently enough to collapse into her seat and pretend like she was a normal person. She did not even bother responding to the professor's jibe - she just nodded and took out a pen, acting like she did  _not_ feel like she was going to faint, and that she  _was_ going to take competent notes. The professor's expression told her that she was not fooled, but she continued on with the class anyway.

"After this class, I want you all to find a  _Complete Works of Shakespeare_  to begin, and we'll work our way from there. I have written my recommended choice on the board as per my usual, but you are free to spend you money on whatever copy you get your hands on, so long as it is unabridged."

This was the kick off to a ten minute class discussion about "what Shakespeare means to you". Sarah felt back to normal in the first two minutes, was shakily engaged in the next five minutes of discussion, and returned to her own thoughts more and more within the last three minutes. Hard as it was for her to believe, she had gone from Near Death Experience By Exercise to Jaded College Senior in record time.

"Now, although some of Shakespeare's most popular works are tragedies -  _Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet,_ and  _Macbeth -_ he is well known for inserting points of humor or spiritualism in some of his darkest work."

 _This is boring._ The thought came unbidden in Sarah's mind. She shook it away, as if to be rid of sinful thoughts.

_Come on, Sarah - you pay good money for this class! And you love Shakespeare… so focus!_

"...especially influenced by the Elizabethan fascination with faerie-folk…"

Sarah blinked. Then she smirked, holding back a bark of laughter when she remembered Jareth's comment from the other day.

_Interesting fellow, but he had a rather skewed perception of how the Fey world works._

She imagined his expression should he have heard Professor Nilim spouting these same 'skewed' mythology references with all the self-assurance of a woman with a Master's Degree in this period of literature. This time, she actually snorted - it was his fault, really. The arch of his already oddly-shaped eyebrows when he decided to look disdainful was actually quite comical.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Professor Nilim did not appreciate a joke that she was not in on.

"Does Shakespeare's work amuse you, Miss Williams?"

Sarah's smile faded as she realized that there was no way she could get out of this gracefully. She had had Professor Nilim before, and while the woman knew that Sarah was devoted to literature, the teacher was also not a woman who would stand to be undermined in any way. The best thing to say was "no, sorry professor" and move on.

"Only when he's writing a comedy, professor."

There was another round of chuckles, some more incredulous than actually amused, and even the professor looked as impressed as she was surprised. Sarah, on the other hand, was frozen in shock and simultaneously boiling with mortification.

_Did I really just say that?_

"Well then, Miss Williams."

 _Oh boy, here it comes._ Sarah actually felt her palms sweat a little - likely more in shame than in actual fear of her punishment for sassing a professor in front of her class.

"Perhaps you would like to stay after class a while so that we can chat about your favorite… comedy?"

Sarah smiled sheepishly, and could not tell if the light in the older woman's eyes was a good or bad thing. The class, which was actually quite small and composed mostly of people who knew each other well, ate it up and "Ooo"-ed good naturedly. Even as Sarah could feel a humiliating amount of heat rush to her cheeks, she tried to remain light hearted and bashful.

"Yes, of course, professor. I apologize for the disruption."

Professor Nilim inclined her head in approval. "Very good. Now, as I was saying - "

Sarah let out a quiet sigh as the danger passed, and took a moment to rub her eyes.

 _I don't even want to be here!_ The rebellious voice in her head insisted.  _And now I have to stay after class? I just want to read those books!_

But she had Shakespeare and an Organic Chemistry lab to prepare for, and she really should finish the outline for the new book she was working on, and there it was her turn to host the Reader's Anonymous meeting this Thursday, and she needed to go shopping or she was going to starve on one cup of ramen for the next few meals…

She sighed again, this time for a completely different reason. Life was piling up already, and it wasn't even second semester? How had she thought that she had time for sex, let alone a relationship and…  _That?_ More than anything, she wanted to have a bubble of time for herself and learn something that these classes could never teach. She wanted… oh, how she  _wanted_ …

"I wish I had more time to read those books," she sighed morosely.

A second later, she stiffened and clapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage was done.

"... will begin by reading  _The Taming of the Shrew_ , and I want you all to consider -"

If the professor had wanted them to consider anything life-changing, the class would never know, because just then the light fixtures above them began to rattle and flicker ominously. A surprised and frightened rumbling swept through the room. With no windows to provide outdoor sunshine, the shadows seemed impenetrable when the lights flickered off, and lurking when the lights flickered on. Sarah, unlike most of the other students, who were gripping their desks with words like 'earthquake' and 'power outage' on their lips, put her head in her hands and berated herself.

"Man, I've really done it this time…"

Just when the lights began to stabilize and Professor Nilim was making comments about how she would have a discussion with the superintendent, Sarah heard the familiar cackling that she was accustomed to hear from her own apartment mirror. Feeling like she watching a train wreck with no way to stop it, she was about to suggest that the class relocate when a girl from across the room stood. Her name was Talia, and she usually commanded any space with her intellect, flawless cocoa skin and untamable curls. At the moment, however, her eyes were darting and she looked like a frightened animal. Although most of the students were whispering about the rumbling, none seemed to have noticed the voices of goblins. Talia, on the other hand, was looking under desks and at the dark corners of the room as if she expected the boogeyman.

"Professor, I think something has gotten in the room while the shaking was happening."

Sarah stared at her with wide eyes. Could she really hear the goblins?

"Miss Murdock, I really don't see how that would -" Professor Nilim, again, never finished her sentence. She was cut off by her own gasp and by a simultaneous outburst from a girl near Sarah.

" _Oh my God! What's in her hair!?"_

Sarah did a double take, but no matter how wide she stretched her eyes, the scene would not change. Talia Murdock was standing with a small goblin perched in her bushy curls.

The goblin snickered. "Big Hair Lady hears us."

The room was frozen. No one breathed. That was, no one breathed, until Sarah could hear one distinct set of lungs draw full. Sarah could feel herself tense as she braced herself - and then, right on schedule, Talia screamed bloody murder.

As soon as the answering chaos broke out, shouts and yells were at war with goblin cackles and glee. Talia was the first one from the room, but it most everyone else was more confused than frightened.

" _It's a rat!"_

_"Wildlife in the classroom! Rabies!"_

_"Ow! Something just bit me!"_

Smaller goblins were jumping on people like children, attaching themselve to legs, arms, and hair alike. Sarah was already up and running, trying to assert damage control. As soon as she pried one goblin off of a terrified sophomore, however, another one seemed to grow in its place. Larger goblins were wielding blunt sticks, beating people about the legs and herding them to the doors like sadistic shepherds. One was even accosting the prim Professor Nilim, who was looking more frazzled than anyone.

" _Unhand_ me, you little beast!  _They've gained sentience!"_

Amid the turmoil, Sarah realized that she was the only one that no one was attacking. Even as she marched up to Professor Nilim's tormentor and wrestled away his stick, she was given a wide berth by goblins of all shapes and sizes.

As soon as she had the goblin's weapon in hand, it stopped paying attention to the professor and looked at Sarah with unadulterated awe. The professor had long since run away towards the doors, screaming her head off for security all along the way.

Sarah, on the other hand, was busy trying to get some answers. "What are you guys  _doing?"_

The goblin ignored her question. "You is… you is  _the lady!_ "

She frowned and stooped closer to look at the goblin eye-to-eye. "What?"

Upon closer inspection, the goblin looked to actually have smooth, pale green skin, which was only mottled by a thick layer of dirt. His eyes were bright and amber, and he seemed young even for his size, which was about two feet heigh. Everything about him was  _pointy,_ from his ears, to his teeth, to his nose… but his eyes were as round as full moons. "You is  _the lady_ who don't kick goblins an' give 'em biscuits an' tea! You is the lady who make  _wishes,_ an' dreams, an'  _sparkles -"_

"I - what? Hold on - Hey! You can't do that to those!" Sarah was distracted by goblins who were ripping the pages from a Shakespeare classic. The goblins scattered like pigeons when she ran towards them, but a moment later she was nearly bowled over into a pile of them when two people - both junior males, from what she could tell from their fleeing backsides - shoved her out of the way in their haste to get to the exit. The last one to leave received the gift of a pebble thrown by a goblin's slingshot in the rear. His cries of pain were cut off by the slamming of the door.

Immediately, the room broke out in cheers, but they were all from maniacal fairy tale creatures. Not a single college student, save herself, was left in the room.

Subsequently, she was the only one to hear her protests when a swarm of at least twenty goblins came to gather and jumble at her feet. They gathered around and, before she knew it, Sarah was the object of curious pokes, prods, strokes, gropes, ooh's and aah's.

"Hey, watch it -! No,  _no!_ That is an  _off limit_ area, I'm warning you-!"

They cared very little about her personal space. Her hair was being twirled and tugged, her shoes were removed so that her feet might be sniffed, and curious comments about her appearance were flying like amo.

"She smell like  _niceness!_ Lady, why not you take mud baths?"

"Her skin so  _clean!_  No warts at all!"

One goblin whose skin looked liked stone touched her stomach, and when Sarah reacted, exclaimed with glee: "Lookit! She's  _ticklish!"_

The uproar of goblin delight and mischief set Sarah into a fit of broken laughter, coughing, wheezing, and exasperation.

"Look -!  _Stop, I can't - !_ "

Goblins by this time had somehow gotten it into their heads that they wanted to carry her somewhere, and had picked her up to be supported by dozens of little hands and heads. Sarah yelped, and shut her eyes tight, trying to avoid hyperventilation and the reminder of the Pit of Hands. That had always been her least favorite part of the Labyrinth.

"I -  _said_  - that's -  _ENOUGH!"_  she shrieked. The hands paused just long enough for her to grasp at her words. " _I wish all of the goblins in the English Building, Room 120 would return to the Goblin Kingdom right NOW!"_

Cries of dismay were interrupted by pops, which correlated with the disappearing hands beneath Sarah's rear. With the last  _pop,_ Sarah yelped as she fell and landed squarely on her backside. She sat, tensed like a coil, breathing heavily. Deafening silence.

With a long suffering moan, she let all of her muscles turn into liquid like they wanted, and flopped exhaustedly on the worn-out carpet of the classroom.

_Well… that could not have been any more of a disaster._

She just counted herself lucky that she was able to wish them away. For a moment, she had been afraid that they would not have left. That had been, without a doubt, the most exciting Monday she had experienced.

_The most exciting Monday..._

In the breathless quiet of the emptied room, Sarah's frame began to shake. Not with fear, or even disgust or confusion… rather, the only sound coming from Sarah was a raspy, almost hysterical little laugh. The rasp grew into a guffaw, which soon escalated into a full out belly laugh. Sarah shook and rolled on the floor with the force of her laughter, eyes screwed shut and tears leaking through. When she ended up unable to breathe, clutching her stomach, she forced herself to slow down and gulp sweet oxygen. Her gut clenched, and it was more the fear of hiccups than anything that finally got her to calm herself. She wiped her eyes.

"It's… only… Monday!  _Ha_!" She sat up, shaking her head in disbelief. Surveying the wrecked room around her, she had difficulty sorting out whether she was laughing at the joke that had been played on her, or laughing to keep from crying. Desks were overturned, some with dirt and grime streaked across them like war paint. Books had been dismembered and the wreckage lay strewn across the room. Debris from the broken sticks made the college room look more like a child's tree house, and discarded student bags and items made the place look almost post-apocalyptic. Sarah found herself in awe that the place had not been burned down.

Feeling very much like she was in over her head, Sarah made her hands come up to pat her cheeks alive.

"Come on, Sarah. This is no time to mope. Who is responsible for this?"

_Well, technically, that would be me…_

_… but where there are puppets, there is a puppet master._

"Jareth!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenge of the Chapter:
> 
> Does anyone have any idea what That is yet? If five people guess it right, I'll give a big reveal in the next chapter!
> 
> Hint: It's less of an object and more of an experience.
> 
> Good luck!


	4. Dance Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: I want to start posting on Friday mornings or Thursday evenings, so either you'll have a very early update this week, or a semi-late update next week. Probably the latter, but you'll have a good update either way!
> 
> Also, I have a fanfiction account under the username Star Crossed Writer, and I update this story there long before I update it here... so if you want a more up-to-date, real-time look at this story, I recommend fanfic!

Chapter 4 - Dance Magic

"People learn twenty-five percent from their teacher, twenty-five percent from listening to themselves, twenty-five percent from their friends, and twenty-five percent from time." – Paulo Coelho,  _The Witch of Portobello_

_oOo_

_Where there are puppets, there is a puppet master._

"Jareth!" she called into the empty room. She waited expectantly for a poof of glitter or a dramatic owl flapping at the door, but… nothing. She gritted her teeth in irritation and felt the childish urge to stamp her foot.

_What do I have to do, wish for him?_

The thought gave her pause. Actually, come to mention it, that was probably  _exactly_ what she needed to do.

"Jareth, the Goblin King, I… command you to appear… right now!"

She waited. The stillness of the room taunted her. Just as she thought.

_Damn. I really do have to use the words 'I wish'._

Somehow, she could not bring herself to say 'I wish Jareth, the Goblin King, would appear right now'. It would have sounded too much like she…  _missed_ him, or something. Sarah wrinkled her nose in distaste and began scuffling her feet on the carpet, avoiding the inevitable. Her hands pinched at her lips as she wracked her brain.

_Think, think… how do you get what you want out of this without sounding like a clingy fool? If political science has taught you anything, Sarah, it is that there is always a loophole..._

"I wish… that Jareth, the Goblin King… would obey my summons to appear before me, right now."

"Not quite what I was hoping for, precious, but close enough."

She spun on him.

"Hah! It worked!" A triumphant smile was stuck to her face, and for a moment she forgot the actual  _reason_ why she had summoned him in the first place. It did not help that he seemed as though he had been undressing, with only a very  _open_ poet's shirt and soft grey breeches. He was not even wearing gloves or shoes. Sarah felt her mouth water.

If he noticed her distraction, he paid no attention to it. He only smirked his customary smirk and placed his hands on his hips. On any other man, it might have seemed effeminate, but he somehow managed to make it look lordly.

"Indeed. How  _very_ ingenious of you, my dear." His mischievous dimples said that he thought his goblins could have done much more  _'ingenious'_ things in their sleep. When Sarah thought about what she had read just a few hours ago, she had to admit that it was a possibility. Then he shifted his hips, and she stopped thinking entirely for a few moments. "Now, what have you 'summoned' me for?"

Sarah stopped trying to imagine what his reaction would be if she raked her nails over his toned, smooth, impossibly perfect chest and was reminded of her purpose.

_Oh, right. I'm supposed to be mad at him. Oops._

She attempted to throw back her shoulders and look every bit as regal and imposing as His Majesty of Tight Pants, but he only seemed mildly amused. She kept it up anyway and pursed her lips in displeasure.  _Fake it 'till you make it, right?_

"I think you know what I called you here for, Goblin King." When he remained impassive, she continued. "The wish?"

Instantly, there was a drastic change in his appearance. Before she could draw a full breath, he went from laid-back and alluring to rigid and with forbidding intensity in his heated gaze. Sarah almost took a step back in surprise, but she held her ground - although she did lose her 'regal' composure. She now saw why he had only been slightly amused when she had tried to imitate him. If she was in the presence of someone who could radiate this kind of power so easily, it was no wonder that her attempts at importance seemed like child's play.

"Sarah." His voice cut through the air like a dart through tissue paper, and she was forcibly reminded of their first encounter. Nervously, she wondered if he was going to throw a snake at her. With unease washing over her, she realized that she had forgotten that Jareth could actually be  _dangerous -_ he possessed power she had no way of knowing and had been dealing with humans like her for millennium. How had she thought that this was at all safe? It was hard to believe that she had so severely pushed one of his buttons, but some primal instinct told her that now that the line was crossed, she must tread very carefully.

"I had hoped that you had not retained such childish,  _spoiled_  insolence.  _You_ made the wish, and  _I_ was simply  _gracious_ enough to grant it."

The panic edging through her system froze.  _What did he just call me?_

Sarah bristled as all of the adrenaline fueled by fear was instantly redirected, wariness thrown to the wind after such a personal attack. She had not been called 'childish' and 'spoiled' since she had been fifteen, and it stung like a slap in the face. She was caught between wisely holding her tongue and giving him what-for. The effort of wanting to scream insults and swallowing the words at the last minute was making her cheeks puff and flush with a mixture of indignance and anger. Her fingernails bit crescent moons into her palms.

How  _dare_ he? They had only had one night together and he thought that he had the right to throw those kinds of assumptions in her face? Deal or not, dangerous or not, if he thought that his intimidation show was going to cow her into submissiveness, he had another thing coming!

Her instinct was to follow the anger biting into her veins, but she knew that doing so would only prove him right. She  _knew_ that dammit, but she really should have taken those anger management classes when Karen had suggested them!

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No, Sarah Williams does not need an anger management class. Because she was a  _mature_ and  _level-headed_ adult, she would try to diffuse the situation rationally right now and make him beg for forgiveness later.

_But damn, how much I want to kick his ass right now!_

Thinking back to his words, she tried to look past the insults and understand what was making him look at her with such hostility.

_"_ You  _made the wish…"_

Her eyes snapped back up to his with sharpness to rival his own. If she was right, there was only one thing she could think of to say.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

He opened his mouth as if to retaliate, but she cut him off before fuel was added to the fire. "I may have been young, Jareth, but I do learn from my mistakes! I  _know_ that it was my wish and you were only doing your job!" When he still looked like he did not believe a word she was spouting, she got frustrated and stamped her foot. "Dammit! I am  _not_ going to pointlessly villainize you anymore - so stop making me want to!"

The wild look in his eyes dissipated a little. He actually seemed surprised, Sarah noticed, and she felt more than a little offended. Then again, she supposed that there really was no reason for him to trust her any more than she trusted him. As she had thought before, all that they had had was one night - neither of them owed the other anything.

Now that neither was radiating unadulterated animosity at the other, Sarah actually felt just a  _tiny_ bit guilty for getting so angry in the first place. Maybe Jareth was right and she still had…  _childish_ qualities. Like a short temper. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes, taking a few steps closer to him in order to sit herself down in the professor's vacated chair.

"Look, maybe you should take me home first and we could talk this out there? I did call you for a reason, but I could make some tea first or something, you know?"

Jareth's intensity had waned, but he had not yet become the impish Goblin King. Instead, he was looking at her almost unblinkingly, as if to catch her every movement, and Sarah fought the urge to fidget. The carefully masked attention on his face made her wonder what was going on inside his head - she wondered if he wondered the same thing about her.

He nodded slowly and closed the distance between them with measured steps. "Tea sounds… appropriate."

Sarah felt her heart speed up a little despite everything as his proximity and scent invaded her senses. It took her a moment to realize that he was reaching a hand out to her. As she watched, he gave a fluid turn of his wrist and his hands were suddenly encased in soft grey kid skin gloves, and she refused to feel disappointed. It dawned on her that, even in sex, he had worn similar gloves - she had just been too preoccupied with other parts of his anatomy to notice.

Swallowing thickly as she shooed away such memories - they  _were_ very unfitting for the current mood, after all - she slipped her hand in his and stood. They had not been this close since that night, and she could feel waves of warmth coming off of the flat planes of his torso. Whether from his cooling temper or otherwise, it was enough to jack up her pulse another few notches.

"You may want to be a bit closer, precious." When Sarah tore her gaze away from the rise and fall of his chest with wide eyes -  _caught in the act -_ she was relieved to see that he looked in better humor. She was also a little unnerved to see that he looked like he was laughing at a secret… at  _her_ expense. "This may feel a little…  _odd_ for you."

She opened her mouth to question him, but only gasped when a lithe arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against his frame. Her palms came to rest on the bare skin where his collar bones met his chest, and the top of her head stopped just under his chin. She could practically  _taste_ his scent now, and it was going straight to her head (and other choice regions). Conscious of the high color on her cheeks and the exhilarating sense of adrenaline spurring through her body, she was unable to stop from inhaling deeply. She wondered if all Fey smelled like this, but she had a hard time believing that any other being could make her blood feel like lava just by his  _smell._ Licking her lips, her eyes locked on the movement of his Adam's apple, and she wondered if it would be terribly inappropriate to taste the skin there. This smell, wild and smoky, filled with power and the sharp spice of magic, was quickly becoming addicting.

Before she could do anything too embarrassing, however, Jareth flicked his wrist and summoned a crystal. With one arm still firmly around her waist, he chuckled and rolled it tauntingly across his free hand, as if to say that he did not need it to see what her 'dreams' were. She would have been insulted, but the vibrations of his chuckle in her chest were rather distracting.

"Prepare yourself, precious," he whispered close to her ear. She shivered and obligingly sidled closer, though she was not sure if it was simply to 'prepare' herself. "I need you to think very intently about your living room. Just close your eyes, and clear your mind of anything else. Breathe, and clear your mind..."

Sarah, for once, obeyed without objection. His voice was uncharacteristically hypnotic, and she felt no reason to fight it. Behind the dark of her eyes, she could only feel the warmth of his skin and the occasional tickle of his hair against her cheek. She breathed in and imagined her stunted 'living room', filled with books and an old mismatched loveseat and futon. Her thoughts were miraculously uncluttered, the mental image surprisingly vivid. Distantly, she wondered if his weird hypnotism had something to do with it. Somewhere to the left of her head she heard Jareth whisper some foreign-sounding words into the silence.

When she heard the crystal crash, it instantly felt like her body was being encased with shards of liquid glass, sharp and fluid at once. The air around her was crushed and her thoughts were crystallized. She tried to gasp and her lungs felt like they were shrivelling - she tried to scream and all she got were tears pricking her eyes. It felt as though she were plummeting into a void, her body wired with tension, waiting for some sort of impact. She strained with the need to hold on to something,  _anything,_ to gain her feet or to at least stop this acceleration into  _nothingness._ Her tears and thoughts alike were ripped from her by snatching tendrils in the void, taking apart everything she was and putting her back together like a ragged jigsaw puzzle. It felt as though every hair on her body was sticking up on end, skin tingling with the raw intensity of the space around her and the … magic. It was painfully bright, like opening her eyes to the high noon sun after years of pitch black darkness. Every nerve felt riveted, crackling, and  _alive._ Painfully alive. It was breathless in every sense of the word.  _Magic._

Then, as soon as it had started, it stopped.

Sarah sucked in a lungful of air and swore that it had never tasted so good, despite the fact that she was forced to cough it out a moment later. The colors around her seemed brighter, and it was as if every one of her senses were hyper-aware after such an onslaught. She was shuddering, but now that she could breathe, the waves of electric magic washing over her body seemed strangely exhilarating instead of threatening. Her heart was pounding with the force of a bass drum, blood roaring in her ears, hands clenching instinctively into threaded silk and smooth satin…

A deep reverberating laugh made Sarah's insides feel molten all over again. Lean hands came up to her shoulders and began rubbing slow circles to ease the tension away. The sensation made her groan, and she dropped her head forward, loosening her death grip on Jareth's hair and shirt.

"I am impressed. Most humans would have been reduced to a boneless, sobbing mess right about now."

Sarah laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly, because she felt a little too close to tears for comfort. She began to disentangle herself, trying to act as though she had not been through the most terrifying, thrilling experience of her life. Somewhere down the line, she had latched on to Jareth as though he were a lifeline, but his arm was still in the same relaxed position around her back as it had been. Although she was huffing like she had just run from an army of Cleaners, she could feel his heart steady as a metronome. If she was honest with herself, she was in fact  _very_ shaken… and it irked her. She latched onto the emotion, using it as a guide away from the feelings of weakness that were threatening to destroy her ego.

"Would you like a reaction more to your expectations? I'm sure I could arrange something."

As if the Agents of Murphy's Law had been listening, the moment she edged herself two inches from the Goblin King, her knees started to give. Cursing, she reached out for the nearest support, but Jareth was already guiding her to the loveseat. She sat with as much dignity as she could muster and avoided meeting his eyes, trying not to feel like a fool while hiding her shaking hands in her lap. Her breathing and heart rate were returning to normal, and with them the feeling of exhilaration. All that was left was the odd sense that she had been put up to a trial and had somehow fallen short.

Two soft gloved fingers pressed under her chin and lifted her head until she had to look purposefully away to not meet eyes with the man before her.

"Precious." There was no condescending tone that she had been expecting - only a term of endearment spoken with enough force to make her eyes flick upwards instinctively. Potential mistake or no, she found that once their eyes met, her gaze was locked. For once, Jareth's eyes were not mocking. In fact, he was the most sincere she had ever seen him. "You have no idea how proud you should be for the power you hold."

Sarah's brow pursed, puzzled. As far as she knew, she had exemplified no such power - but Jareth did not seem to be about to let her go until she agreed, so she nodded her head. He released her slowly, and she finally did begin to fidget with her hands, feelings oddly like a child. How had they gotten into such a serious, awkward situation? What was he even here for?

Ah, yes. She still had a bone to pick with him. Yet, as he flicked two crystals into existence and turned them into cups of steaming tea, she felt like their conflict had taken place hours ago. Still, she had questions… but the words stuck in her throat.

Thankfully, Jareth beat her to the punch, settling his own cup in his lap as he sat naturally on her coffee table.

"Well, now - I believe you had something to discuss about your wish?" He took a sip and arched a brow ironically. "I need not tell you that there is no 'return policy', correct?"

Sarah nodded quickly, anxious to avoid the same misunderstanding twice. "Of course. And I  _do_ know that it was my mistake in the first place to make the wish… but I can't really say that I agree with the  _way_ you granted it."

Jareth pursed his lips and gave her a look, as if to say 'And your point is…?'.

She huffed and put down her tea, forcing herself to face him directly and openly. "I wished that I wanted more time to read those books, right? And you obviously sent the goblins so that I would get out of class early and have more time. Am I correct so far?"

He nodded, leaning forward on his elbows with a slightly mocking air. Sarah felt it tug at her nerves, but ignored it.

"What I don't understand is  _why_ you went through all that trouble. I know for a fact that you can reorder time and all that - why cause havoc in a poor English class for nothing? I mean, isn't it just a waste of energy in the first place? And for  _that_ matter," she continued, getting more heated as the words came pouring from her mouth. "Why did you have to grant the wish immediately? Of course, I knew that you were  _going_ to, but why? You could have just as easily waited until I got home and then done something to cancel my next class to give me more time, or something like that! Not only would it have been less disruptive, it would have been massively more efficient on your end, because it wouldn't require much magic or energy at all! Just... _Where_  is the logic?" When she finally looked him in the eye again, his seemed to be smiling an odd kind of smile. Somehow, she felt encouraged. She almost wanted to brush his wild blond hair back to see his eyes better. "What in the world is going on in that ridiculous head of yours?"

Jareth smirked. "Funny, I was wondering the same thing."

When it was Sarah's time to give him a 'look', he put up his hands in surrender. "Your questions are valid, precious. The truth is, although I am the King of Goblins, I do not always have ample amounts of time to respond immediately to the thousands of wishes I hear - whether or not they are useless or valuable. In fact, it is  _because_ I am king that I often am preoccupied with attempting to hold the kingdom together. My goblins, on the other hand, find nothing so pleasing than to take hold of a particularly bright wish and run to its call at the drop of a hat. If my assistance is needed - as it was with your first wish, if you will remember - then I will come to clean up the mess behind them."

Sarah squinted, processing this information. "So… what you're saying is, goblins use magic and energy heedlessly and obey any wish that catches their fancy?"

Jareth considered. "More or less, yes, I suppose that is correct."

Now it was Sarah's turn to smirk. "Then you admit that you have no control over them?"

"I -" Jareth stopped, looking slightly stunned for the first time that evening. "Pardon me?"

"Just admit it, Jareth!" Sarah exclaimed, feeling slightly victorious now that she had found a weak spot. "The goblins are about as controllable as small children! And, no offense, but you seem to be a really  _bad_ parent figure."

Jareth looked positively miffed, and Sarah was eating it up. "I will have you know that I am an  _excellent_ disciplinarian."

Sarah snorted. "Oh, you mean by kicking them out the window? That's rich."

He sputtered, looking more insulted by the minute. "I would  _love_ to see you do any better!"

" _Jareth."_ Sarah rolled her eyes for emphasis. "You can't teach a creature with fear alone. That's not how it works. You need to gain their trust, make them  _understand_ the rules and reasons you're laying down in front of them. Have you ever tried explaining to them  _why_ it is important for the Goblin Kingdom to conserve magical energy as much as possible?"

The king scowled, looking for all the world like a sulking teen who was being proven wrong and did not want to admit it. "No, of course not. They would never understand such a complex issue."

"See,  _that_ is part of the problem!" Sarah exclaimed. When he only shifted in his seat against her coffee table to face more away from her, she leaned back and forced herself to relax. "All right, look at it this way. Obviously goblins have the potential to be crafty, cunning, and wise, because they have been in the past - in fact, I'm not even sure why they stopped. I don't think you're giving them enough credit. I  _know_ goblins from the Goblin City, and I know how much they love their kingdom! They wouldn't do anything to harm it if they knew all the risks of taxing the magic supply of the land."

Jareth arched an eyebrow. "Are you quite finished?"

Sarah huffed. "Yes, fine, I suppose I can stop lecturing you for now. But this conversation is  _not_ over,  _mister."_ She punctuated her words by poking him playfully in the arm. "I love the Goblin Kingdom too. If I can help it by giving you a new perspective, then I'm going to lecture you to my heart's content. _"_  She gave one last poke for good measure. He gave her a warning look, but she could have sworn she say his lips twitch at the same time.

"Very well, precious... I suppose you will do what you will. After all, as has long since been established,  _I have no power over you_ ," he jibed back at her.

She gave little theatrical gasp and held her hand over her heart. "Ouch. You wound me to the quick!"

He rolled his eyes and pulled himself to stand, whisking his teacup away with a flick of his wrist. "Oh, I am  _positive_  you will recover. Now," He offered her a hand, and she accepted it and allowed him to pull her up with him. "Are those all of your questions, my dear? I would hate to keep that inquisitive mind in the dark."

Just as she was about to respond in the affirmative, she remembered something from earlier. She frowned and bit her lip, pondering for a moment.

_It's probably a stupid question anyway…_

"Forget it, it's nothing."

"Oh, no." Sarah was startled by the sudden shift in Jareth's tone from playful to serious. "Mortal women may be able to fool their men with that, but  _I_ have been alive for thousands of years, precious. Now I must  _insist_ that you ask me that question before it becomes an accusation."

"I - well, I mean - you don't  _know_ that I would -" Sarah stuttered, trying to defend herself, but she knew he was right. She groaned, hoping that what she was about to say wouldn't sound as bad as it did in her head. "Fine. My question is… well…  _why me?"_

_Nope. It sounded worse._

"I mean, there are literally  _billions_ of people on this planet, and I  _know_ that you said that belief is at an all-time low, but come  _on!_ I am not going to lie - it has been more than frustrating to not be able to use the word 'wish' in common conversation. Do you realize how often people 'wish' for things? Just simple things that don't make any difference - things like Jill wishing she had an umbrella, or Jack wishing he didn't have to take a math test. Yet, I know that if  _I_ was to say such things, I would end up with a horde of goblins at my feet!" She realized that she had been flailing her arms around in her tirade, and let them flop to her sides with a defeated sound. "I guess I just want to know  _why,_ that's all… but now I just sound like I'm whining, and I wish I never - I mean, I  _should have never_ said anything, because now -"

"Sarah."

" _What_?"

"Stop talking, if you please."

She clicked her mouth shut but pouted mightily. Jareth was back to looking regal and self-assured, and Sarah wistfully placed the memory of her one-upping him in a cherished place.

Instead of laughing at how self-absorbed her question sounded, however, Jareth simply gave her that curious look that she had seen on him before. In a moment, she was transformed once again from woman to puzzle beneath his eyes. This time, she chose to meet his gaze instead of fidget… and she realized that he was just as much of a puzzle to her.

"You are right."

Sarah blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been the quiet, thoughtful admittance she had just received. "What?"

"You are right - there are at least thousands of others who have retained their power of belief past childhood. Granted, it used to be millions… but you are not alone even now." Unexpectedly, almost… tenderly, the Goblin King brushed her hair aside to tuck it behind her ears, as if to look at her the better. Her breath caught in her throat and she could not have blinked if she wanted to. The sensation of soft kidskin against her cheek, feather light, made her have to resist leaning into his touch. "All the same, I think you do not understand the power of  _your_ belief. Even I do not yet know what makes it so potent, but I am... drawn to you. To be utterly honest, I do not believe that I could ignore one of your wishes if I wanted to."

If this had been any other time, Sarah would have been skeptical. Yet, the look in his eyes made her as sure of his truthfulness as she was of her own. He looked vulnerable and conflicted in a way she had never seen, and she knew that it probably frustrated him to no end that, for once, he was just as clueless as she was. In that moment, she thought she understood him with a new clarity that made her wonder if he could see through her just as easily. Then, because she knew better than anyone how it felt to not have the only answer she wanted, she took his hand and smiled.

"I am  _exhausted_ from living up to your expectations," she quipped with a grin.

Slowly, he returned it, and scoffed a little. "How  _generous_ of you."

They shared a comfortable silence and an inside joke, letting the confusion of life melt into the past for the moment. Absentmindedly, Sarah let her gaze wander down to the pendant that was perpetually around his neck, feeling the urge to trace it. She wondered if it had any function, like his gloves obviously seemed to have.

Just as she was about to reach out and touch it, Jareth gasped into the silence, making her hand lose its path.

"Ah! I almost forgot." Jareth took a step back and made a series of complicated movements with his hands. When he finally opened them to her, he was offering her a crystal. "Your wish."

"What?" She stepped forward to get a better look at it, confused. "I thought that was taken care of when the goblins canceled my class?"

She gave a huff when he took a step back for every step she took forward, never allowing her to see or touch the crystal too closely. He ignored her irritation flawlessly.

" _That_ was only one part of the wish, as it obviously has yet to be fulfilled. You asked for more time to read your books:  _this_ is a Time Crystal. Once it is broken, it will freeze the time within your sphere of existence for - "

" - Let me guess. Thirteen hours?"

He pinched her nose. "Stop trying to be smart, precious, it ruins my speech."

Smacking his hand away, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. Please continue, Your Majesty."

He grinned. "Gladly. As I was saying, time will stop for exactly thirteen hours. But beware - it can only be used at once, and as soon as it is cracked, the time will begin. Only the person who cracks it will be able to control its time, and it can be cracked by  _anyone._ Furthermore, if you activate it while in another person's presence, they will be frozen in time, but alive."

Sarah nodded uncertainly, trying to commit all of what he was saying to memory. "But… what exactly does that mean, 'frozen in time, but alive'?"

"It means that their bodies will still be active, but their minds will be instantaneously shut off."

She frowned, first at the crystal, then at him. "Is that dangerous?"

He shrugged. "It is possible that there could be adverse effects. Memory loss, a spout of dementia, fainting due to lack of nourishment… the possibilities are simple endless."

"Oh. I, ah… I see." She eyed the crystal a little more carefully now.

He smiled, as if reading her thoughts. "I would not fret, precious. The bubble of time you have to yourself will be in your immediate area. Time outside of the bubble will play on as it would have, although no one will come looking for you because of the redirectional magic of the crystal's spell. Once the spell ends, however, time will reverse itself to accommodate it, and you can resume your daily life as it would have been from the moment before you cracked the crystal."

"Now how does  _that_ not have any 'adverse effects'?"

"For all the others around you for whom time is reversed, they will simply feel the sensation of what humans like to call 'deja vu'. Quite harmless."

"Okay…" Sarah nodded. "That sounds… well, perfect, actually. I'll take it!"

But just as she stretched for the crystal, he held it out of her reach and tutted.

"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast." He held the crystal just out of her reach. The look in his eyes dared her. "What will your payment be?"

"My… payment?"

He nodded. "Every wish comes with a price… that is, unless, the wish  _is_ the payment, as it was with your first wish. In fact, my goblins have already taken the time and energy to come to the Aboveground for your sake. Whether or not you take the crystal, you are already in my debt."

Sarah grimaced and thought. If there was anything that college had taught her, it was that 'debt' was a very nasty, ugly, dirty word.

"Um… I don't suppose you'd accept a kiss would you?"

When Jareth actually threw back his head to laugh, Sarah giggled awkwardly, wondering if he was laughing  _at_ her or  _with_ her. Even when he stopped, his grin was practically feral. "Oh no, my dear. I'm afraid that department has already been taken care of with our deal."

Sarah threw up her hands, exasperated. "Well… I'm a college student, Jareth! Unless you want some chemistry textbooks - "

He faltered for a moment, baffled. "Chem -  _what?"_

" - then you're kind of barking up the wrong tree! I really don't have anything of value right now!"

Any of her mother's jewelry that had been handed down to her was away with her father and Karen, who were keeping it safe. Almost all of her clothes and furniture was secondhand in some way or another, whether it hailed from the Goodwill or a generous garage sale. Probably the only thing of value she had at the moment  _were_  her textbooks, come to think of it, considering that they costed hundreds of dollars by themselves. The more Sarah thought of it, the more she began to get depressed. She stopped thinking about it.

"I mean… what do you want from me?" she asked hopelessly.

Jareth seemed to consider for a moment, but the twinkle in his eye said that he knew exactly what he was going to say.

"What about… a dance?"

"... Excuse me?"

He held out a hand to her, with the other juggling the crystal effortlessly. She eyed it hungrily. "You heard me, precious. One simple dance, and all of this time is yours."

Her eyes tore away from the crystal to regard him beseechingly. "You're  _kidding,_ right? I can't dance."

He raised his eyebrows in feigned shock. "I'm surprised at you, Sarah. You seemed to dance quite perfectly during our first encounter."

Sarah tilted her head at him. "What are you - oh.  _Oh."_ She flushed. "Well, that can hardly be considered  _my_ dancing. I don't have the benefit of an enchanted peach right now, now do I?"

The Goblin King only chuckled and offered his hand more insistently. "Like it or not, you  _will_ be required to dance at the ball in two weeks. Really, I am doing you a great service by magnanimously offering you something you  _want_ for something that you already  _need."_

She balked at him. "No one said anything about dancing!"

He gave her a pointed look. "Sarah, love - it  _is_ a  _ball."_

Even as she drew in breath to retaliate, Sarah deflated when she realized he was right. She grumbled. She hated him being right almost as much as she hated being  _wrong._ She eyed the crystal ball in his hands, knowing full well how much of a treasure it was. But did the price have to be her  _dignity?_ Magical peaches aside, Sarah was known for having two left feet. That had been part of the reason why the belly dancing had been so short lived. Then again, what she had said before was completely and depressingly true - she was the definition of starving college student. She had little else to trade.

"I really don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Jareth looked positively wicked. "That would be the idea, precious."

She sighed, and finally took his hand, allowing him to help her up. "Alright, alright, fine. But give me that crystal first. I will not stand for any goblin trickery with this."

"I would not  _dream_ of it, my dear." He smirked and lightly tossed her the crystal. Caught off guard, she yelped and fumbled, nearly dropping the damn thing before recovering her footing. When she had it safely cradled in both hands, she glared at him. He shrugged innocently as if to say, 'It's not my fault that you're a klutz'.

Grumbling, she went to quickly stash the crystal in her super secret hiding place (a hollowed out book that she had found at a yard sale… go figure), making sure to bury it as far back on her bookshelf as possible. Standing back to survey her work, she felt satisfied that neither thief nor goblin would think to dig under her tomes. Now she just had to hope that  _she_ didn't forget where it was.

Dusting her hands of the situation, she resigned herself to dance lessons with Mr. Magic Pants. When she came to the threshold that was  _supposed_ to go back to her living room, she stopped short. She had  _not_ resigned herself to dance lessons with Mr. Magic Pants in  _an actual ballroom._

Where her mediocre accommodations were before now stood a luxurious, wide open ballroom that looked to be larger than the entire expanse of her apartment combined. Sarah was frozen. She blinked, pinched herself, and rubbed her head, wondering if she had slipped and fallen and was now in a bizarre coma dream. Then, however, she looked to her left and saw, next to a majestic marble pillar, her beaten loveseat… which was being lounged upon by an delectable, sly, arrogant,  _insufferable -_

"Jareth! What the  _hell_ is all of this?"

He looked around him with a serene smile plastered on his infuriatingly gorgeous face, as if just noticing his surroundings. "Like it? I figured it would do much better than that other, er…  _venue_ you had."

" _Venue_  - ? Jareth, that was my  _apartment!_ You had better change it back!"

"Do not fret, my dear. Your…  _living quarters_ will be returned to you as soon as you fulfill your payment." Jareth came to stand with ease and grace that Sarah was instantly envious of. When he lazily sauntered in front of her, she noticed that he, too, had made a wardrobe change… and that he looked damn good in an old fashioned coat and tails. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin defiantly. He was trying to distract her, and it would  _not_ work. She may have been easily swayed when it came to his physical presence, but she had  _will power_ , dammit.

"This is ridiculous, Jareth. How much magic did you even have to use to expand this space, anyway? Maintaining distortion of the physical world doesn't come cheap, you know!"

For a moment, Sarah felt smug with success when the suave smile he had was wiped off in the face of surprise. Take  _that,_ fancy pants.

"How did you know that?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jareth,  _you_ were the one who gave me those books in the first place. One of the first things it talks about is the price of Underground and Aboveground interaction. You keep talking about how the Goblin Kingdom is doing so poorly, but then you go and spend whatever energy and magic you have like  _this?_ How does that make any sense? No wonder the goblins use magic willy-nilly!"

Jareth frowned, but looked around with a more thoughtful air instead of sulking like the last time.

"I suppose it is a bit… grandiose."

"Good, yes, thank you!" Sarah felt like she was making progress. "Now what are you going to do about it?"

Taking a few steps that echoed around the opulent vaulted ceiling, Jareth surveyed the setting like an artist about to make a monumental change to his masterpiece. Sarah felt like tapping her foot, but let him take his time. Hopefully, this would yield some less ridiculous results.

Jareth raised his arms and began to murmur foreign incantations, pulling his arms as though he was manipulating puppet threads woven into the room. Sarah gasped when she began to feel the silk and electricity of magic sliding over her skin once again, similar but different from the transportation experience. This time was not quite so soul-shatteringly intense, but simply… breathtaking. She watched in awe as Jareth's magic swam and danced in ribbons of light, his concentrated baritone incantations an undulating background noise. Slowly, the vaulted ceilings and chandeliers dissolved into light and bubbles. The walls glided inwards to form a more intimate acquaintance, but the large, arching windows continued to flood the room with sunlight. The unnecessary furniture in the room was whisked away in a sparkling smoke, and Jareth seemed to be putting the final touches on his creation. With a final gesture, all of the magic that had been flirting with reality came to return to its source, forming a whirlpool of light and color in front of the Goblin King. For one instant, Sarah had to shield her eyes from the near blinding effect - but then it all receded into his hands, and the glow diffused to normal.

She gaped even as he turned around and dusted his hands, as if to say 'Well, now that that little chore is taken care of -!'.

"Jareth, that was  _beautiful."_

He raised his eyebrows when he saw her, then covered his mouth as if to keep from laughing. "I daresay it is."

Sarah looked at him in confusion, until she noticed that he was staring pointedly at her clothes and not her face. For a panicked moment, she worried that she may have even drooled while she was gawking in amazement. When she looked down, however, it became apparent that a stain would have been the least of her worries.

"Jareth, absolutely  _not._ Take it off right now."

"With pleasure," he purred. His advance was cut short when Sarah finally snapped and threw a temper tantrum, slapping his hands away, feeling an angry flush work its way up from her chest.

"Not  _that_ way, you idiot! Change it back! I  _refuse_ to wear this dress again!"

Her rage was significantly less impactful in the white poofy ballgown that she had worn so many years ago. Jareth was laughing by this point, and nearly doubled over at that. Despite the scene he had just gifted her with only moments ago, she felt the uncontrollable urge to rip his hair out.

"Jareth, this is  _not_ funny!"

"You - you look - sorry, a moment…" he tried to choke out words between laughter. If she had not felt so close to spitting, she would have probably joined him. His laughter was more free and full than she had ever seen it, and it was contagious. Fortunately or unfortunately, her wrath gave her immunity better than any vaccine. Instead, she simply ground her teeth, marched up to him, and grabbed him by his flawless lapels.

"Listen to me, you overblown 80's rock persona - and if  _that_  is too difficult, then  _read my lips."_ She growled. "Change. It.  _Back."_

His laughter had now contained itself to an irritatingly wide smile, and he gently grabbed her wrists and eased her out of attack position.

"My apologies, precious - truly." The grin in his voice spoke otherwise, and she glowered. "I simply got carried away… but you  _do_ look lovely."

"Jareth…" she snarled a warning.

"Of course, precious." He laid his gloved hands to hover mere centimeters from her shoulders, and in the next moment, his whispered words trickled over her skin like rivulets of that same addicting feeling of magic. The frigid heat of the spell stripped away her anger almost instantly, replacing it once again with wonder. Distantly, she thought that she ought to try to memorize this feeling so that she could write it in a story one day, despite the fact that she was unsure if it could be captured in words.

So, she closed her eyes and coveted every fleeting moment like jewels slipping through her fingers. She could feel her skin bloom with a map of gooseflesh where the magic touched, could see unnatural, beautiful colors rush behind her eyelids. Familiar adrenaline ignited in her pulse as if to sing back to the tune of the spell weaving around her, with none of the pain of the transportation. Every hair stood at attention, every sense invigorated and  _alive._ She could even smell the faint scent of what she recognized as the fresh tang and spice of magic. It whispered in her ears, and she could have sworn that she heard the beginning of the most delicate, heartrending aria she had ever heard.

Then, all too soon, it dissipated, leaving her feeling oddly refreshed and, at the same time, wishing for more. It even took her a moment to realize that the cool, smooth fabric against her skin was not her ordinary jeans and T-shirt that she had thrown on to go to class in.

Looking down, she was surprised to see that Jareth had replaced one dress with another - but where the last one was a humiliating reminder of one of her weakest moments in the Labyrinth, this one was simple and elegant. In fact, if she was honest, it was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever had on her body. It conformed to her natural curves but almost seemed to have a life of its own, shimmering gossamer shifting over sea-green silk like a mist. The neckline was a V-neck that swooped downward, but stopped at a surprisingly decent length, and the skirts flowed around her legs uninhibiting lightness.

_Not only is it the most beautiful,_ she thought,  _it's probably the most_ comfortable  _thing I've ever had on my body. I feel like I'm being hugged by a rainbow._ Still, she raised an eyebrow at him.

He raised one right back. "Were you under the impression that those who attend Underground balls wear  _jeans_?"

Sarah flushed, feeling oddly defensive. "O-of course not, but -"

"I want you to be as prepared as possible, precious." Jareth cut her off, not unkindly. "Fey in general cannot be considered the most…  _accepting_ of beings. The Fey Court is even less so. Therefore, if you just happened to trip and fall in the middle of a dance because you were unused to the sensation of skirts, the reception would not exactly be  _pleasant._ "

In her head, Sarah admitted that this sounded at least a little bit logical - It was basically a dress rehearsal and a lesson at the same time. But of course, she could not have the Goblin King thinking that she thought he was right.

"You just wanted to see me in a dress, didn't you," she accused good-naturedly. He grinned in response.

"It is a bonus, perhaps."

Sarah snorted and held up her hands. "Alright, Goblin King. Show me what I have to do."

What she had to do was, apparently, much more difficult than she had expected. The Goblin King had taken her hands in his and placed them in the standard position - her left hand on his shoulder, her right hand clasped in his. Strangely enough, the hand at her waist never strayed… and she soon found out why. When he had said that she needed to learn to dance, he had not been exaggerating - and he was not exactly the most patient of teachers.

" _Ow."_

"Sorry, sorry!" A mere thirty minutes into their impromptu lesson, Sarah had already formed the bad habit of stepping on her partner's unfortunate toes. The first few times she had laughed, but as time passed, the joke grew weary for the both of them. By this time, which Sarah estimated to have been at least an hour or two, she just felt like burying herself alive with embarrassment.

To say that Sarah was out of her element would have been an understatement. She was frazzled and tense, even though Jareth said that he was going less than half the speed that the dance steps would actually be performed in. Her earlier doubts about being able to fulfill her end of their bargain returned with full force, weighing more heavily on her shoulders with every misstep and head bump.

This was why, as Sarah ended up stepping  _left_ instead of  _right_ as she should have, and her nose unceremoniously bashed into the Goblin King's arm, she lost what little control she had on her growing temper.

"That's  _it!"_ Her eyes watered in response to her tingling nose, which she was massaging. "Jareth, I obviously cannot do this! We'll just have to make an excuse, like I'm an invalid, or something. This is not going to work!"

Sighing with a little more force than was necessary, the Goblin King regarded her with hands on hips. "Unfortunately, we are going to have to  _make_ it work. Nobility in the Underground are going to expect much more from the future 'queen' of the Goblin Kingdom than a simple dance.  _This_ dance happens to be the most important and formal - it has been a part of Fey history since… its beginning! All of the others, you may be able to get out of, but never this one. Every Fey in the Underground is taught this dance, no matter their rank or standing."

"Well, I guess it's too bad that I'm not exactly a  _Fey_ , then, isn't it?" Sarah shot back, eyes blazing.

Jareth pursed his lips. "It is not something that can be learned in as little time as we have been working on it. We simply need to go through the whole thing until it becomes more natural."

She groaned, sorely wishing she had her loveseat to flop down into. Unfortunately, it was across the room, and her feet were not about to let her take that journey. When Jareth had provided her with her dress, she had discovered that she had low-heeled slippers to match, but they had not exactly agreed with her feet. Despite the luxurious fabric, she could already feel a blister forming on her right foot, and the arch of her left foot was tingling with pain from the lack of support.

Just as she was considering flopping to the ground in lieu of her favorite chair, she heard a crash coming from her bedroom. Her head snapped in that direction, but she heard little else.

"What was that?"

"Come now, precious, you cannot distract me so easil - "

" _Hush!"_  She stuck a silencing hand out to him, eyes fixated on her closed bedroom door. "I just heard it again. I think that there's someth -"

Before her suspicions of a break-in could go too far, however, she shrieked in surprise when her bedroom door finally burst open to reveal… a horde of guilty-looking goblins.

She gaped, sore feet forgotten. From the look of them, they had been spying on them this whole time, pressed into each other and now in a tangled pile.

"What the devil -?" Jareth's attention had been caught now. "What is going on here?"

One of the more daring - or stupid - goblins scampered up from the heap and tutted its way all the way up to the king.

"This not dancing! Where's the  _musics?_ " The goblin hopped from foot to foot, dancing around the two of them to provide his example. "How the Lady supposed to learn with no musics?"

Unexpectedly, a chorus of agreements issued from the heap as goblins began detaching themselves. Soon enough, Jareth and Sarah were surrounded by a circle of obnoxiously singing, twirling, hooting goblins. One of them grabbed her hand.

"Come on, Lady!" invited the goblin. It looked vaguely female. "You can learn to dance with us!"

" _Silence!"_  Jareth looked like he was about to blow a fuse. The girl goblin  _eeped_  and scurried behind her partners. "Fine then - if  _you_ lot think that you can do such a better job, then have at it!"

"Wha - I -!" Sarah sputtered. Before she had a chance to articulate any form of protest, the goblins had already begun whooping and hollering.

"Bring the musics!" One of them yelled.

Without hesitation, one of the older looking goblins snapped his fingers, and a little ball of light about the size of a crystal floated above their heads. Sarah gasped, but not just because it looked like something out of a dream, but because of the music it was emitting. It tugged at her memory, and she finally recognized it as the melody she heard briefly when Jareth had changed her wardrobe. Only this time, it was much more than a brief whisper - it was a symphony that instruments could not imitate. At turns it rushed wild, filling the room with its own energy, and then it would tapered back into something more intimate. The goblins, for one, never missed a beat, and their ordinarily random movements pulsed with purpose in time to the music. Sarah  _felt_ like she could not sit still,  _felt_ like she needed to dance - but only stood in discomfort because she did not know the steps. She glanced guiltily at Jareth.

"The music is beautiful, but…" She shrugged helplessly.

Jareth, on the other hand, blinked in surprise. "You mean, you hear this?"

She tilted her head. "Shouldn't I?"

As an answer, she only received that ever-more-frequent look that made her feel like a puzzle. The only problem was, the more she got it, the more she felt like she should  _not_ have been.

_Is something wrong with me?_ She wondered suddenly, worried.

The goblins never gave her a chance to think more on her fears. While neither of them had been watching, three goblins had formed a small goblin tower by sitting on each other's shoulders. Sarah was briefly reminded of a scene from Disney's  _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,_ and could not help a burst of laughter.

"Come dance with us, Pretty Lady!" the bottom goblin cried as they lurched their way over to her. She noticed that it was the same smooth-skinned goblin who had been talking to her in the chaos of the classroom. They all looked so joyful and hopeful that she gave in with a chuckle, taking the top goblin's hands in her own. This goblin was like a round version of the bottom goblin, short, smooth-skinned, and green. Without the sharp features of the first goblin, Sarah was inevitably reminded of a pea.

"Let me guess - brothers?" She asked, gesturing to the two top and bottom goblins. The middle goblin looked a little put out, his shrivelled brown skin creasing more with a frown.

The bottom goblin snickered. "We is  _all_ brothers, Lady! I is Kitik -"

"I is Binib!" piped the top goblin.

" - And I is Trash Muncher," the middle goblin said, with a voice that sounded like a garbage disposal. When Sarah looked taken aback, Trash Muncher shrugged, jostling Binib in the process. "Pappy got to name me. Call me Munchie, Pretty Lady."

Despite everything, Sarah could not help a giggle at Munchie's comically sour expression.

"Well, Sir Munchie, it is an honor to make your acquaintance," Sarah replied. Munchie looked so startled by her formality - joking though it was - that he gaped enough to show three missing teeth. Shaking his head, Munchie shook Binib upon his shoulders.

"What're you just sittin' there for? We hafta teach Lady how to dance!" He proclaimed, suddenly sounding much more enthusiastic. Sarah laughed and obligingly took Binib's hands.

Dancing, she knew, should have been impossible. Her feet were sore from two hours of intensive training, she was dancing with goblins awkwardly sitting on top of each other, and there were more goblins running around and enjoying themselves at her feet. The odds, like the goblins, were stacked against her favor.

Yet, something was drastically  _different_  in a way that defied those odds. She did not step on Kitik's feet  _once,_ nor those of any of the goblins surrounding them. Even as she twirled in Binib's arms with more than a little difficulty, given their length, she felt like she…  _belonged._ The time spent toiling with the Goblin King over what feet went where at what time simply melted into the background, and she felt like she knew exactly where she was going.

_It's the music,_ she thought suddenly. Every twist of the tune emitted from that strange ball of magic  _told_ her how to turn, as if it was some secret language that she could not have understood before. It was impossible  _not_ to dance when this music was in the room. All she had to do was let her mind be filled with that tune and everything melted away.

She threw her head back and laughed when Kitik suddenly broke into a jig complicated footwork, with Munchie and Binib bouncing around as a result. Just as she was backing herself up to catch one of them if they fell, however, she felt herself bump into something.

_That's strange,_ she thought.  _I didn't think we were so close to the wall…_

The hands steadying her shoulders, however, did not belong to a wall. Surprised, she craned her head backwards and discovered that she was receiving a  _very_ arched eyebrow from His Majesty. She gave him a cheeky grin.

"I've found a  _wonderful_  dance partner, Jareth, you really should meet him… er…  _them."_

Jareth gave a pointed look at the goblin brothers. When Sarah looked back, she had to cover her mouth to resist laughing - without her support, the three were quickly losing their balance, too caught up in bickering with each other to realize the problem. Sarah flinched when they came crashing down, yelling at each other and shaking fists in their new heap. In the end, she could not help chuckling a little, even as they were shooed away from the dancing circle by others to take their squabble elsewhere.

"May I have this dance?" Jareth's voice was low and his lips brushed against her ear. Sarah gasped, cutting off her chuckle almost immediately. The mirth bubbling in her chest instantly took on a different agenda, and she found herself turning in Jareth's grasp to face him.

"How can I say no to royalty?" She smiled slowly. He rolled his eyes at her, but took her hand and pulled her closer by the waist. Sarah could suddenly not make her lungs work correctly. Even though it could not have been half an hour since they had last been in this position, it could not have felt more different. There was a new  _something_ that sparked between them, and for a moment Sarah wondered if she was the only one who felt it. When she looked up into Jareth's eyes and found them riveted to her own with that increasingly familiar puzzled aura, and she knew that she was not. Given the Goblin King's incredulous expression, she also figured that it probably was not normal… but once they took the first step and got swept away in the music, she could not find it in herself to care.

"Incredible," he whispered. "If I had not seen it, I don't think I would believe it."

She blushed under his gaze, but held her eyes to his own. "What? Is me dancing  _really_ that incredible?"

"Yes!" he burst. At her withering expression, he attempted to correct himself. "Well, no… not exactly, at least. I just… you should not be able to hear this music. And it certainly should not have affected you like this."

"And why is that?" She asked, curious. He stepped and she twirled, breaking the conversation, but when they returned, his expression had not changed.

"It is… difficult to explain." He said finally. "This music is meant to be for Fey ears only."

She put her hands on his shoulders and he lifted her by the waist, neither noticing that their actions were mirrored by a dozen goblins.

"And why is  _that?"_ She smirked. "Your music is too good for us humans to hear?"

Although, she had to admit as she listened to the honeyed notes, she would not have wanted to share it either.

Jareth shook his head. "You don't understand. This music is meant to be heard only by those with magic."

Sarah almost froze in surprise, but her partner and the crystal-clear notes that sang through the air kept her going. Despite her shock, Jareth continued.

"That was why I never bothered to try teaching you with it, because I thought it was pointless. That is why this song and dance is so important to the Fey - it has been our custom since the beginning of our kind, the one and only thing that has truly ever been ours, separate from humans. I thought that I could teach you the pattern of the steps and that that would be enough to get us through the ball, but… obviously, I was wrong."

"What are you telling me, Jareth?" Sarah asked with wide eyes. Cold surprise and trepidation were gripping her insides, dulling the effects of the music. She stumbled a little. "Are you saying that I'm really a  _Fey?_ That I'm not  _human?"_

He shook his head quickly. "No, of course not. I would have been able to sense it within you had you even had Fey  _lineage._ No, you are quite human, Sarah, but… I am beginning to think that your power is more than even I had expected."

They fell silent after that, even though Sarah felt questions simmering just beneath the surface from  _both_ of them. Jareth, for once, seemed just as new to this as she was.

_Well then,_ she thought, trying to tamp down her unease.  _Might as well enjoy it!_

A swell in the music seemed to comply to her wishes, and Jareth held her a little closer than before as they took off with the current. Unlike the first time they had danced together, she did not feel the magical haze of a spelled peach fogging her brain. Unlike the second time they had danced together, she did not feel the frustrated haze of incompetency fogging her emotions.

_Third time's the charm,_ she smiled.

Jareth's hands were warm on hers even through his gloves, and his gaze was warmer. Though he dipped her and twirled her and swept her away in time to the music, she never faltered. Before, she had been lost in a maze of complicated moves and sequences, but now… the music was like a compass and he was her guide. With the both of them, it was impossible for her to get lost.

The music slowed and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He did not seem to mind. They turned a few times together, and Sarah found her eyes closing, humming along with a tune she had never heard before and trying to memorize this experience. His hair brushed like feathers on her cheek, and his scent embraced her even as his arms did. Vaguely, she realized that they were in a very similar position as when they transported here together… and the safety she felt made all the difference. She felt his chin against her head - not quite nuzzling, but enough pressure to let her know he was there.

"Precious…"

She began to look up, distancing herself a little from his chest so that she could see his eyes. Instantly she wished she had not.

Instead of the mismatched eyes she was so used to, she met gazes with abnormally large green ones with a cat-like pupil splitting them down the middle. Sarah stiffened in shock. Seeing a  _goblin_ instead of the  _Goblin King_  made worlds of difference.

The goblin, on the other hand, simply held his perch on Jareth's shoulder and cocked his head at her. Like a child, he reached up and tugged on Jareth's ear, making the man jump and look down, startled. "What the devil - !"

"Kingie find a new Queenie?"

The question seemed to shock the both of them, if Sarah was judging Jareth's sudden tenseness correctly. He eyed the goblin at an awkward angle. "In a manner of speaking…"

Sarah thought of their deal. She blushed, thinking that that was definitely not what the goblin was talking about.

The goblin, on the other hand, was oblivious. He (she thought it was a 'he') nodded. "Good. Pretty Lady should be Queenie Lady too!"

"Um…" Sarah started uncomfortably. Just as Jareth opened his mouth to respond - whether it was a reprimand or a otherwise - the magical atmosphere was broken by the foreign sound of metal scratching against metal. The music stopped, and everyone froze. Even Sarah could not figure it out for a moment.

Suddenly, she gasped. "It's the door - someone's trying to get in!"

The goblins, apparently of a same mind, all began scurrying and scrambling for her bedroom. The wizened goblin that had released the music earlier recollected it, and they all took off for what she assumed was her vanity mirror. Jareth had long since released her, but he stayed put.

"Do you want me to - "

_"Sarah! Are you home? Let me in! This stupid spare you gave me isn't working!"_

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and exasperation at the same time.

"It's a friend of mine - I'm safe. But you need to go!" She pushed Jareth towards the bedroom with the rest of them. "Like, now!"

"That won't be necessary, precious." He eased himself out of her grasp. When she looked at his hands again, she realized that he held two crystals. One he threw into the air, and there was a strange sucking noise, as if a void had been opened up in her living room. The next moment, she gasped, realizing that everything was suddenly back in its place - her books, her futon and her love seat. She was even wearing her jeans again.

Jareth gave her a wink and swooped forward to give her an unexpected, heated kiss. "Try not to miss me too much, precious," he whispered in her ear. Her cheeks were flaming.

Without further ado, he whispered words into the crystal and in a flash of blinding light… he was gone. The silence from her bedroom door indicated that the goblins had made it out too.

She touched her lips in a daze.  _What the hell just happened?_

She did not have time to answer her own question, however, for her apartment door swung open just then, delivering her best friend in a heap in the doorway. With a spew of curses, she picked herself up and dusted off her sundress. When she saw Sarah, she gawked. Sarah panicked for a moment, wondering if something was out of place, or maybe she was covered with glitter -

"You were here the whole  _time?"_  Amanda sounded outraged. "Why didn't you help me?"

_I was trying to buy time for the goblins and their king to get out before you got in._ Sarah remained silent.

Thankfully, Amanda's one-track mind had her hurrying forward. "Never mind, it's whatever. But Sarah, look what I just found in a discount bin!"

She was excitedly waving around a skinny rectangle that could only have been a DVD case. Sarah had a sinking feeling in her gut.

"Amanda, don't tell me…" When her friend only stared at her, Sarah brought a hand up to scrub her face. "I thought I said that the spare key was for  _emergencies only?"_

Amanda looked indignant and hurt at the same time. "But Sarah, this  _is_ an emergency. You've never seen  _The Neverending Story!_ Besides," she let her lip tremble, ever the Theatre major. "We haven't have a movie night in  _weeks!"_

Sarah glanced longingly at her bedroom door, where creatures from an entirely different realm had just scurried off to their homes. She sighed, and snatched  _The Neverending Story_ from her hands.

"Fine. You go make the popcorn. I'll get my computer so we can huddle around it."

Amanda squealed in glee and raced to the kitchen with all the buoyancy of a puppy. Sarah dutifully retrieved her laptop and settled herself on the futon with a nest of blankets and pillows, setting up for movie night. She mentally prepared herself for what she knew to be a trippy 80's children's film that her friend just happened to be obsessed with.

She snorted, thinking of her latest house guests.

_As if I hadn't had enough of_ that  _already._ She heard a  _ding_ from the kitchen.

"Popcorn's ready!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Challenge of the Chapter**
> 
> Send me a favorite quote of yours, and I'll work it either into the story itself, or the chapter quotes that I put at the beginning every time.


	5. Mischief and Magic

Chapter Five - Mischief and Magic

 

“A good friend will always stab you in the front.” ― Oscar Wilde

 

oOo

 

The more time Jareth spent with Sarah, the more he thought that he had stumbled upon something much more than he had bargained for.

 

First, there was her reaction to teleportation magic. When she had told him to ‘take her home’, he had figured that it would end poorly, and she would learn to never ask such again. Humans, in his experience, never took to it well. They simply lacked the capacity to harness internal or external magic to protect themselves against the ravages of such an invasive spell. Even for Fae, it was a skill that had to be learned. He could still remember the feeling of _his_ first teleportation. He shuddered.

 

This was why he had been surprised to the point of laughter when he found that she had, once again, defied his expectations. Instead of crumbling like so many before her, she had maintained her strength with flying colors - her grip on his hair had proven that much. Where others had trembled and shied away from him, as if expecting to be hurt, she had trembled and shied away from him out of embarrassment for her own reaction. Never did she realize how inexplicable her recovery was. He could not be sure if it was due to her exposure to the Labyrinth - although the teleportation due to a wish was much different and, subsequently, more human-friendly - but she had somehow found a way to defend herself from the abrasive spell.

 

Secondly, there was her reaction to non-invasive magic. The first had come when he altered his magnificent ballroom into a much more modest setting to suite her (admittedly sound) advice.

 

_“Jareth, that was beautiful!”_

 

The wonderment and awe on her face had given him pause, but he had assumed that she was referring to  the sudden, inexplicable change of her surroundings. He had not given it much more thought, especially after he had caught sight of her in that dreadfully silly, sugar-spun ballroom gown.

 

Then, however, her reaction as he had obligingly changed her robes made him think twice about such an assumption. His magic - magic that she should not have been able to _see_ , let alone _feel -_ had cascaded around her, and she had looked as though she was feeling sunshine for the first time. Her eyes had shut, expression blossoming open in every other way with peace and ecstasy. With the golden sheer of his magic dancing across her skin, threading through her hair, and weaving a dress across her body, he had confessed to himself that he had rarely seen a moment so beautiful in its purity.

 

That did not change that it was inexplicable and seemingly impossible. The final straw had been her reaction to the Tapestry.

 

Although the Tapestry of Kin, the most ancient song and dance known to the Fae people was based off of responsiveness to magic’s song, it was also not without pattern. Jareth had foolishly thought that he could teach her that pattern, and they could figure out the rest as they went along. Obviously, he had been mistaken. Almost as if the steps to the Tapestry refused to be learned by a non-magical being, he had quickly discovered that every side-step and twirl was for naught. Bad dancer or no, he knew that no one should have been able to dance for _two hours_ and still not be able to make hide nor hare of it.

 

When the goblins had come and insisted upon using the magic’s song, Jareth had _known_ it would be futile. And yet…

 

She had responded to it. Not only did she hear the music that had only graced the ears of Underground beings for millennia, it was as though a switch had been flicked. She became effortless where before, there was only struggle. As soon as she began dancing with the music, she had shone like a gem and danced like a goddess. For heaven’s sake… she had even _hummed along_ with the tune as they danced together.  In short, she flawlessly imitated everything that a Weaver should have been.

 

Yet, it had still been an imitation. The magic that he had seen unfurl from her was that of any other human. It was the magic of life, the thin thread that any living being possessed, that had responded to the music. Even in comparison to the steel-like quality of the goblins’ internal magic, her human magic was slight and ordinary. Ridiculously, against everything that he had been taught, it _still_ insisted upon weaving itself within the Tapestry.

 

The Tapestry of Kin was the dance that had supposedly separated Fae from human so many thousands of years ago. It was said in lore that, when the two species were born, the earth opened itself up and allowed its song to be heard. The Fae, who could see and hear the magic, had reveled in the gift and danced with enchantment for the first time. In return, the magic knitted them together and bonded them as kin. Anyone who danced this dance could see the magic of their brethren, brought forth from their souls in the colors characteristic of their power, woven into a web that connected them all. When done in the Underground, it was truly a sight to behold - every color of magic threaded throughout thousands upon thousands of Fae as they celebrated the magic that they were gifted with. These different colors, and the web that they created, was why the dance was named the Tapestry, and why the dancers were known as Weavers.

 

Humans, who could not hear the magic’s song, could not partake in the dance. Ancient Fae philosophers had passed around their reasons for this, but none had ever been completely proven false or true. Humans did, after all, possess magic - the general consensus was that it was simply not _enough_ magic.

 

This was how Sarah became a walking contradiction. When she had responded to the song, a thin wisp of magic had unfurled from her chest, bobbing like a serpent to a snake charmer’s tune. It was, as far as he knew, roughly the same amount of inner magic that any human possessed. Therefore, it should have been unaffected by the Tapestry, and certainly should not have been able to connect with the goblins around her.

 

Definitely, it was impossible… except for the fact that he had seen it happen with his own eyes. It had looked slightly ridiculous, this thin thread of magic bonded with the strong steel-grey cords of goblins, but it had done so nonetheless. Incredibly, inexplicably, the Tapestry seemed to accept her as kin without the connection of magic.

 

What was more, he had no idea what it meant. To his knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened before. He suspected that, even if it had, the higher-ups of the Fae Court would have kept it under very close lock and key. If human and Fae could be recognized by magic as kin, then what did that mean for the power struggle between the Aboveground and the Underground? Did it mean that the Great Divide, and the losses and pains of its consequences, had been unnecessary?

 

Was it possible for them to coexist once more?

 

Jareth shook his head at himself. All of this had been plaguing his mind hours after he had been shooed away from Sarah’s home, once he had had time to sit and reflect. At the time, however, he had found that he simply wanted to enjoy the moment.

 

 _Maybe that is what I should be doing,_ he thought to himself. Lazily, he stretched two arms above him to clasp his hands behind his head, staring idly at the ornate ceiling carvings of his personal chambers. _Perhaps there really is no greater meaning to this, and Sarah is simply… a fluke._

 

A delightfully interesting, captivating fluke. He smiled in memory of the dance they had shared. It had been marvelously refreshing to dance with her unhindered by neither spelled peach nor clumsy feet stepping on his toes. He found himself wanting to do so again.

 

Jareth sat up suddenly, latching onto that train of thought. After all, why _shouldn’t_ he do so again? When he thought about it, the long-term nature of their deal gave him free access to the Aboveground as long as he fulfilled his end of their bargain when he did so. Furthermore, he had no way of knowing if or when Sarah wished for his presence. Unless, of course, she called on him as she had last time, which really was the more difficult way of doing things.

 

 _That can be easily remedied,_ he thought devilishly to himself. Pushing himself from his seat, he left his chambers and transported himself quickly to the Goblin Treasury. He made sure to disarm any protective spells before entering, wanting to carry out this mission without alerting his excitable subjects.

Landing with two feet on solid stone, Jareth took a moment to light the blackened torches around the room with his magic, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lighting. The Treasury itself was much less abundant than it should have been, but Jareth was well acquainted with this fact, and refused to dwell upon it now. Without hesitation, he strode to an ancient oak cabinet on the far side of the massive room. Upon the wooden panels were scenes depicting goblin history, many of which resembled human fairy tales. Each one centered around the temptation of sin - whether lust, greed, or pride. He smirked, and smoothly pulled upon the thin drawer he was looking for.

 

The velvet casing of the drawer was a rich red, studded with handfuls of rings of all shapes, sizes, and values. Impatiently, he scanned the lot for the one he had in mind. Grinning when he succeeded, he snatched it from its nestle and closed the drawer without another glimpse, inspecting his prize.

 

Out of all the rings in the Goblin Treasury, this was perhaps the simplest… and the most suited to his needs. Pure gold stylized into feathers gently encased a minuscule crystal, the size barely smaller than a pea. He only remembered it from the past century, when he and the goblins had been forced to take inventory of the _entire_ Treasury for budgeting reasons. Briefly, he rolled his eyes at the reminder - he sincerely hoped that he never had to do _that_ again while he was in rule, careful spending be damned.

 

Returning his attention to the bauble, he cupped it in his hands and raised it to his mouth, closing his eyes and whispering the spell that he needed. The glow of his magic suffused the air, burning brighter than the flames for a moment, bursting from his fingers and into the crystal. After the last word was spoken, the glow diffused, and he only caught a glimpse more of it as the golden sheen settled into the ring before disappearing completely. He smiled at his handy work, very much pleased - the ring looked completely unaltered, but he could now feel the faint tug of it on his magic, as if it was hung on a string. Happily, he threw it in the air and caught it, before tucking it safely inside a pocket of his vest.

 

Now was the fun part. Jareth praised himself for his cleverness, and went about planning a visit to the bookish burrow that Sarah called ‘home’.

* * *

 

 

As soon as Sarah woke up the next morning, she knew that something was off. Wincing as memories filtered through the fog of sleepiness, she groaned and prepared herself for disaster. Amanda was never exactly _neat and tidy_ about Movie Night.

 

Sure enough, when she cracked open an eye, she was greeted with a mess that any goblin would be proud of. Popcorn littered her beige carpet, pillows and blankets strewn without caution. Her computer had long since turned black, but she did not remember turning it off - it had probably run out of battery.

 

In the middle of it all was sprawled Sarah, unwilling and unable to function.

_Mornings really are not my thing._

 

Resignedly, she hefted herself up to a sitting position, wincing when several muscles and joints protested.

 

_What the heck? Why do I hurt so much…_

 

Her sit bones and thighs ached fiercely, a sore reminder of her debacle with the bicycle yesterday. When she did her morning stretches, she could feel her calves and lower back tugging with more resistance than usual. The dance lessons, it seemed, had not been much kinder. She didn’t even want to _try_ to get on her feet, but her bladder demanded attention, so she decided to grin and bear it.

 

 _It could be worse,_ she attempted to console herself. _You could be hungover right now._ This was actually a valid concern. Sarah knew from past experience that Amanda often enjoyed throwing drinking games into Movie Night. Sarah, whose drink menu consisted of instant coffee, tea, and water, found that she did not exactly hold her liquor well.

 

As she began hobbling to her bathroom, feeling far too stiff for her twenty-three years, a whiff of coffee floating through the air caught her attention. It smelled heavenly, but that was beside the point. _I ran out of coffee two days ago._

 

Briefly, she considered the idea that the Goblin King had, once again, infiltrated her home... but she disregarded that on the account that she could not imagine him stooping to the level of brewing his own coffee in her ancient coffee pot.

 

_So that means…_

 

“Morning, sunshine!”

 

“Ack!” If Sarah had been holding anything, it would inevitably have gone crashing to the floor. As it was, she jumped in surprise and winced when she landed on the abused balls of her feet. “ _Amanda-!”_

 

 _Great. I forgot that she_ is _a morning person._

 

“Man, you slept for a _long_ time. Are you getting old on me, or what?” The Theatre major placed a hand on a hip and gave Sarah a look of mock-accusation. Her fiery red curls were tussled from sleep still, the freckles dusted over her cheeks and nose giving her an inherently impish quality. In the light of day, however, Sarah noticed details that she had not taken in during the night. Amanda’s freckles stood out with greater contrast on especially pale skin, faint shadows under her eyes uncovered by makeup.

 

Sarah quirked an eyebrow at her. “More like _you’re_ getting old on _me._ I hate to tell you, but you don’t look so good. Is something wrong?”

 

Amanda looked a bit surprised and even flushed. If her worn-out appearance had not been enough, then that _definitely_ did the trick - in her entire friendship with Amanda, which was going on three years now, Sarah had never known her to blush so easily.

 

In a flash, Amanda seemed to have realized her mistake, for she regained her composure and effectively donned what Sarah had dubbed the Actress Mask. She frowned. Though she had seen the dreaded Mask used on many an innocent bystander - for instance, a professor who needed some convincing, or a superior who need to be sucked-up to - Sarah had never seen it directed at herself. She was not at all sure that she liked the experience.

 

“Sarah, you know me - I just take drama _way_ too seriously.” Amanda grinned easily. For a moment, Sarah doubted herself, wondering if she was just being paranoid because she hadn’t seen Amanda in a while.

 

 _No! Stay alert, Sarah!_ She ordered herself. _That’s exactly what she_ wants _you to think!_

 

Unaware of Sarah’s own internal drama, Amanda sighed. “With auditions to worry about soon and this year’s advanced Acting Studio classes… it’s kind of overwhelming!” She worried her lip for effect.

 

_Oh, wow. She’s good._

 

Sarah repressed the urge to roll her eyes and was about to tell her friend to cut the crap when she thought of something. She had not seen Amanda for this long in almost two weeks, and whenever she _did_ see her, the upbeat woman was almost always running around campus doing who-knows-what. It was not impossible that she really _had_ gotten more busy.

 

Besides that, Amanda had yet to mention _That_ even once, which had not escaped Sarah’s notice. She pursed her lips and gave her friend a considering look. Sarah was fairly sure that, whatever it was that was bothering her friend, it extended beyond the stress of senior year… but it was also obvious that Amanda did not want to talk about it just now. She had already extended Sarah the kindness of not bringing up unwanted topics - shouldn’t Sarah give her the same consideration?

 

 _I’ve been pushing everyone away because they won’t stop bothering me about what happened,_ Sarah thought to herself. _I don’t want to do that to Amanda._

 

So, in the end, Sarah shrugged and gave her friend a look. _I’ll play along this time, but if you start looking any worse, I_ will _break out the liquor._ “So, what do you want me to do about it, Miss Busy Body? Give you a shoulder massage, or something?”

 

Amanda smiled - it was a real smile, not a Masked one, and Sarah thought that she could see traces of relief and gratitude in it. Amanda took her lead.

 

“Oh, man, but that sounds wonderful! I’ve been trying to work this crick in my neck that I get every time I have to crane my head back dramatically -” The comfortable laughter and banter of the two women was unexpectedly cut off by a rather abrasive, metallic sound that was issuing from Amanda’s purse. Smile evaporating, Amanda lunged for it, digging until she found her phone. With one glance at it, she swore, looking instantly a little paler.

 

“Sorry, Sarah, maybe another time - I forgot that I have to meet with my acting group for costume brainstorming in an hour.”

 

Sarah blinked, and forced herself not to feel disappointed. “Oh, okay. Well… do you want to take _The Neverending Story?”_

 

Amanda grinned as she gathered her things and slung them over her shoulder in her purse. “Nah, you keep it. And I _will_ be taking you up on that shoulder massage, mark my words.”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes and followed her friend to the door. “Yeah, yeah. I know the real reason why you keep me around - for my magic hands and tolerance.”

 

Her friend winked and blew her an air kiss. “You betcha, doll. Wish me luck!”

 

The door closed and clicked as it locked. Staring at the knob, she frowned a little, wondering if she had done the right thing. “Good luck.”

 

Then, with a vengeance, the pain centers throughout her body began their assault on her senses once more, and Sarah was forced to file Amanda’s strange behavior away for another day. She began her limp to the bathroom medicine cabinet.

 

“Ow, ow, ow, _ow -_ ugh, I hurt all over!” she grouched, fumbling with the lid of an ibuprofen bottle. “Just you wait, Goblin King - I’ll get my revenge!”

 

She swallowed the dose with some tap water, and sighed, belatedly thinking that she should get something in her stomach before the pill began to dissolve. Shuffling on tender feet back to her kitchen, she passingly glanced at the calendar on her fridge before she froze in the middle of retrieving an orange. To confirm her growing fear, she glanced at her wristwatch.

 

“Damn! Chem is in and hour and a half? I don’t even want to get dressed today!” Sarah scowled at her fortune and began tearing away at her orange peel with perhaps more ferocity than was necessary.

 

_Sometimes, I just want to be able to freeze time and enjoy life at my own pace._

 

Sarah stopped the chewing of her citrus fruit. She felt like smacking herself for not thinking of it sooner.

 

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she excused herself to her orange. With much more pep in her step, she made her way to her bookcase.

 

_Well, it certainly didn’t take me long to find an excuse to use this…_

 

“No better time than the present, right?” she asked her hide-away book before opening the latched lid. Inside glimmered the Time Crystal, just waiting to be cracked.

 

Originally, Sarah had thought that she might wait longer until she used the crystal to freeze time so that she could study all of her Fae books, similar to the way she might cram before a test to keep the information fresh. One look outside her window, however, showed her that the day was dreary and confirmed that she had absolutely no desire to interact with the living. She was sore, and her kitchen was well-stocked because she had gone shopping the day before. Besides, if she laid the foundation by learning as much as she could now, the next week and a half would probably go much smoother. Maybe she could impress Jareth with her stores of knowledge.

 

It was settled. There was officially no reason why she should _not_ spend the day in, nested with books, and learn about an entirely different world.

 

 _But still… thirteen hours is a very long time to study._ With a smile, Sarah gently set the crystal on her bed before running to her kitchen and living room. When she returned, her arms were piled with snack foods, wedged in-between her laptop and her body. She also managed to squeeze in an assortment of old movies. Dumping her load onto her twin bed, Sarah observed her layout.

 

“Good. If I get hungry, there’s food, and it I get tired, I can take a break and watch a movie.” It was especially well because she was not completely sure how the Time Crystal would work. Jareth had said that it closed off her ‘sphere of existence’, but what exactly did that mean? What if she accidentally strayed outside of it? In any case, it was better to be safe than sorry.

 

Curiously, she cradled the crystal as she curled herself up on her comforter. When she inspected it closer, she was surprised to see numbers suspended within the crystal, is if scratched there. She had seen similar artwork before, where images or even words were encased inside of glass, but this seemed… different. The numbers reflected light in rainbow colors, almost as though they were moving on their own. The highest number that she could see, she noted, was thirteen - and they were all scattered within the small globe, with no rhyme or reason. She took a deep breath.

 

“Well… here goes!” Scooting closer to her bedside table, Sarah only hoped that it did not scatter into a thousand tiny shards. Knowing her, she would cut herself to ribbons. With all of her strength, she slammed the crystal down onto the edge of hard bedside table.

 

There was a burst of light, and the crystal split into two rough halves. Sarah watched in amazement as the numbers that she had thought were part of the crystal itself squirmed free, leaving the crystal and enlarging like bubbles rising from a great depth. The spice of magic filled the air as the numbers began arranging themselves, flying from one corner of the room to another, fluttering about like scattered pigeons. In the next moment, the metaphorical dust settled, leaving the room unchanged. One half of the crystal rocked quietly on its side.

 

Sarah caught a light out of the corner of her eye, and raised her eyebrows in surprise. _Well, not_ entirely _unchanged, then._

 

Floating around the borders of her room were different numbers, in chronological order this time. To her left, the numbers were smaller, getting larger as they went away from her. The last number that she could see was a glowing ‘3’ before they trailed outside her door and into what she assumed was her living room. To her right, the numbers came back toward her, with two glowing numbers ‘11’ and ‘12 **’.** They had basically aligned themselves to lay flush with her walls, like a wooden paneling.

 

_But where is…?_

 

Craning her head backwards to look behind her, Sarah laughed. The number ‘13’ had situated itself directly above her head, glowing the brightest of all.

 

 _I get it - the numbers form my border,_ she thought. She was pleased that she was apparently not limited to her room alone. On the other hand, she was very comfortable where she was, so she saw no reason to go explore any more at the present moment. Contentedly, she gathered her three books to her like ducklings, and picked up where she had left off in _History of the Labyrinth._

* * *

 

 

Before teleporting, Jareth had conjured a crystal to see whether or not his little ‘lady love’ was home. He was glad he did, in hindsight, because he found that she was not alone. The revelation had been slightly surprising, as he had been getting the impression that Sarah was quite the hermit.

 

At first, he had eyed the woman with curiosity, wondering who this was that was obviously so close to the intriguing woman who had bargained with the Goblin King. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, despite the fact that she had little belief, but he chalked it up to the sheer number of red-heads that he had been… _acquainted_ to in the past centuries. Soon enough, he was going through turns in his mind between begging and threatening her to leave.

 

Finally, she seemed distracted by something and had left in a hurry soon after. Sarah pondered by the door a while before retreating to what he assumed was the washroom. He dismissed the crystal and smiled. Perhaps a little surprise was in order.

 

He left the throne room in a flash of light, whispered words, and a smashed crystal. If any goblins had need of their king, they would be sorely disappointed. He was going to be away for _quite_ some time.

* * *

 

 

The first thirty minutes was the most thorough. Sarah took copious notes on the Troll Wars during the Gerblatan Era, acting as if she was going to be tested. After that chapter, however, everything was downhill. She _knew_ that she needed to know as much as possible, so that she would not look like an idiot if something like this came up in conversation. Nevertheless, the second thirty minutes of the first hour found that her copious notes had dwindled to a trickle of definitions and passing questions.

 

Then, she found out how the Time Crystal worked. Just as she was wrapping up her chapter, the song of a deep, reverberating chime and the following sound of shattering crystal made her start, and look up. The number ‘1’ to her left, which had been glowing a few moments before, was now dull, faded, and appeared cracked. She raised her eyebrows in muted interest, and returned to reading. The second hour found her skimming much of the next chapter.

 

The paragraphs about war were interesting enough, if a bit morbid. Apparently, goblin history books made a habit of describing prisoner-of-war torture tactics in exquisite detail, so as to relay the information to future generations. Most of everything else seemed to circulate around praise of ‘X’ Goblin King and corresponding ‘Y’ goblin inventions.

 

To be sure, there were definitely parts that were fascinating. The lineage of the Fae was particularly interesting, as were the different schools of thought concerning the origins of Fae and humans. Her personal favorite was the idea that the Earth held magic as its life blood, flowing in invisible rivers beneath the its crust. Fae were the ones who could see and tap into that magic, and humans could only partake in the physical fruits of the earth. Once Fae of all different species began to tap into this Earth magic, it began to evolve within them, so that each species used magic a little differently.

 

Much of this concept was still unclear to Sarah, especially because, just as the book was beginning to connect this school of thought to existing lines of nobility, the reading skipped a good ten pages. Distressed, Sarah had flipped back and forth a few times before realizing that they had simply been ripped out. Whether intentionally, or because of the aged nature of the book, there was a good chunk of information about the royal family that Sarah was just going to have to miss out on. She shrugged it off in the end, since there was really very little that she could do about it. What was the worst that could happen?

 

She snorted at herself. _Famous last words._

 

The current chapter she was reading was detailing the interlocking relationships between the Outer, Second, and Inner Rings in reference to species. When Sarah began to realize that she was draining her bag of chips at an alarming rate out of sheer boredom, she decided to switch gears. Closing the history book with a _whump_ , she noted with satisfaction that she was roughly three-quarters done.

 

After a short stretch, a bathroom break, and a walk around her room, Sarah felt refreshed enough to start the next endeavor.

 

She eyed the two next books, trying to decide which one to start. One was the longer text, with pages dedicated to intricate sketches. There was no title on the cover, but flipping open past the first fly pages showed that it was named _Politics and Pushovers of the Underground: What to Do, and What Not to Do Unless You Wish to Be Assassinated._

 

“Quaint,” Sarah commented dryly. She turned her attention to the other one, much smaller and compact in both dimensions and title. It was the overview of Underground officials that Jareth had apparently written himself. She wondered briefly if he had already had it, or if he had put it together just for her sake.

 

Either way, it seemed like it would be the easiest of all three, so she decided to save it for later. Flopping onto her stomach for some variety and grabbing a packet of fruit snacks, she dove into _Politics and Pushovers._

 

By the time the three metallic gongs and the shattering of the number ‘3’ made Sarah resurface, she was rubbing her eyes and trying to digest everything she was taking it. She was surprised at how the text had sucked her in. Then again, she supposed that it was almost like reading fiction for her as opposed to politics. There were still commonalities that she saw between human and Fae politics - like the tendency of overbearing leaders to purge their courts, or the pattern of rising tension and release before every war or political debacle. So much else, however, could not even be categorized by Aboveground standards. Of course, it all boiled down to one thing: magic.

 

For instance, humans have relied upon different bases of judgement for government leaders for centuries - whether by Divine Right, or by Social Contract, however, it was often a game of chance. If a king by heritage did not rule his people correctly, he stood the chance of being rioted against and replaced with someone new. The same, in general, applied for a democratic president.

 

Within the Inner Circle of the Fae Court, however, there was no chance involved at all. All Fae nobility were trained and evaluated since birth, and once the Old King and Queen became ready for resignation, the youth were tested. The difference was that they were not judged by their peers or elders - they were judged by the _magic_ of the Underground.

 

The process was only used in the choosing of the High King and Queen, so power conflict throughout the Underground was not nonexistent. Quite the opposite, in fact - it seemed that magic, contrary to what she had believed, was more of a nonrenewable resource than it was anything else. The kingdoms in all of the rings of the Underground were in constant competition to find new ways to refine their magic, to make it produce more, to harness more control over more land and more people. Only the High King and Queen stood above this, two islands of control unsullied by the agendas of politics.

 

As far as Sarah understood, it was actually quite simple. The center of the Inner Circle was called the Eye of the Underground, and was actually described as a deep well of the purest magic of the Earth.

 

In the process of the Choosing, each candidate was left alone to hover above the Eye for seven days and seven nights. The text, however, described that every unsuccessful candidate came out unalterably changed. Some were rumored to have had their magic taken away, while others aged centuries before their time.

 

Only the chosen High King and Queen would come out stronger. The Eye passed judgement on who was fit to rule for the next phase of history, as it could understand both past and future. It was accepted belief that the magic _knew_ what ruler would yield the best results in future conflicts. In order to wield such power, the High Kings and Queens of the Underground were imbued with control over something that the text referred to as the Tapestry.

 

Though she searched, Sarah never really found out exactly what the ‘Tapestry’ was. It was referenced in a way that made her think that any Fae reading the text would instantly know exactly what it was, no matter their age or status. From what she could gather, it basically gave the High King and Queen control over the entire Underground - although, she thought that seemed rather unrealistic. How could there have been so many wars if the High Kings and Queens could have just put an end to them? It made very little sense, and she was determined to ask Jareth about it later and get some straight answers.

 

There was also the possibility that this ‘Eye of the Underground’ process was a political hoax similar to Divine Right, crafted to make the inhabitants of the Underground compliant under any ruler. She had to admit, however, that it was unlikely, given the history of the Choosing.

 

For instance, the text described two events in Fae history that were viewed as anomalies: In the first, it took two whole centuries for the High King to be chosen, and another century after that to find the High Queen. In the second, the High Queen turned out to be from a Fae family living in the Second Ring with a traditionally weak control of magic - a kind of Underground Cinderella story, without the prince business. There had even been some dispute as to the accuracy of the Eye at the time, but apparently the Queen had proved herself worthy.

 

Throughout all of this information, the book reiterated the one message that did its title justice: The Number One ‘What Not to Do Unless You Wish to be Assassinated’ Rule was to _never mess with the High King or Queen._ By the time she was done reading some of the horror stories of what happened to those who crossed the High Rulers, she was scared shitless and feeling way in over her head. When she thought of the fact that Jareth had mentioned this _ball_ being in honor of the marriage of one of the High Queen’s sons, she felt sick. The High King and Queen would definitely be in attendance.

 

A hundred different things could go wrong, and there seemed such a slim chance at success. It made her wonder - why the hell had Jareth agreed to this?

 

 _He wants to get back at me,_ she thought with paranoia. _Why else would he agree on this impossible mission? I am going to get my ass so fried that not even KFC would sell me!_

 

Sarah sighed and rubbed her temples. “You _know_ that doesn’t make any sense, Sarah,” she chided herself. The Goblin King had never once shown her anything that would hint at a hidden agenda. Hell, _she_ had been the one to make the deal with _him._ Wearily, and perhaps a bit warily too, she pushed the text away from her. “In any case, I think I’ve had enough of _you_ for now.”

 

The time was ticking up to her fourth hour, and Sarah decided that she needed to take a well-deserved break. The snacks had done their duty, so she was not really hungry yet. What she really wanted was to unwind with a mindless novel, void of any consequence to her life except for in her fantasies. She grinned, remembering her copy of _A Complete Collection of Sherlock Holmes,_ slid off her bed without further thought. Briefly, she thought about _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,_ but found that she did not really have the stomach for _more_ fantastic tales involving magic. Nope, just good ol’ Sherlock and Watson - his dizzying intellect, his distinctly non-magical mysteries, and his heroine. What more could a girl ask for?

 

Sarah was three steps out of her bedroom door when she sensed eyes on her, making the hair raise on her arms. She stopped, already on edge from her earlier paranoia, and spun. She gasped in surprise.

 

“ _Jareth?”_

* * *

 

Jareth the Goblin King was not a man to be trifled with. He had overthrown the previous ruler of the Labyrinth fair and square, had bested some of the most elevated military Fae in the Second Ring, and had (for the most part) control over one of the most erratic species in the Underground. Most of what the current Labyrinth was had been born from _his_ mind, so he was not easily duped. He was well versed in almost all of the Underground’s philosophic views and had been sought after as one of the most eligible bachelors in the Underground for the last thousand years.

 

And he had never been caught in as compromising a position as this.

 

“ _Jareth?”_

 

When he had seen Sarah walk out of her room, he had known he was doomed.

 

Jareth the Goblin King was frozen in a lounge across Sarah’s loveseat, and had been ever since Sarah had activated her Time Crystal. Due to his magic, he was also, unfortunately, spared the blissful oblivion of being trapped in time unconscious. For the last _three hours,_ he had been staring at the same piece of wall and wondering if the goblins had ever realized the potential for a new torture technique this was. _He_ certainly hadn’t before this little incident.

 

He blamed himself, really. He had been too hasty when he had teleported here, and had not even thought to check and see if Sarah was considering using the crystal so soon. The price that he had to pay was a feeling of helplessness that he had not experienced in all his several thousand years. Pinned like an insect to a board, his eyes were riveted on her from the moment she appeared, watching and waiting for her next move.

 

Not that he could do much about it. He could barely manipulate the muscles around his eyes, and that was about it. His greatest weapon had effectively become a fierce glare.

 

Sarah was looking at him questioningly, as if expecting him to say or do something. He met her stare levelly, waiting for the moment of comprehension. She edged closer to him.

 

“Why are you just staring at me like that -?” Sarah’s question was cut off by her own as she came closer and realized that not a single muscle had twitched on the Goblin King’s body. He was unnaturally still - it barely even looked like he was breathing. If it hadn’t been for the distinct awareness she saw in his eyes, Sarah would have thought that he was, well, _frozen_ or something…

 

The puzzle clicked in her mind, and Sarah’s eyes widened impossibly as she covered her mouth, a series of emotions fighting for dominance with her realization. Shock was first, of course, then a kind of panic as she wondered if he might be stuck like this forever because of _her_. Then rationality appeased her a bit, telling her that he was obviously fine if he could glare like that. Then, she knew that the appropriate next emotions would be akin to pity and sympathy, but…

 

Sarah only burst out laughing.

 

Immediately, she clapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage had been done. Jareth’s expressive eyes shot daggers at her. _Laugh while you can,_ they said. _We’ll see who has the last laugh in the end._

 

She gasped and bent over, glee bubbling from her chest and rolling down her cheeks. Knowing that her face was probably an unhealthy shade of red, she tried catching her breath… but every glance at the Goblin King’s stoic face did away with her will power. It was not long before she was barely making any sound at all, just shaking with mirth and clapping her hands like a deranged seal.

 

“Oh, ow… Oh, I can’t - can’t _breathe -!”_ Sarah’s flimsy complaints were swallowed by another tidal wave of chortles, snickers, and snorts. Unsteadily, she plopped herself on the coffee table in front of the Goblin King, watching him through watery eyes. “Wazza matter, Goblin King?” she cooed. It was actually a few moments and knee-slaps before she could get the next few words out, failing miserably at sounding earnest. “You look - _pfft! -_ you look a little… _stiff!”_

 

She cackled with renewed laughter when his livid intensity increased tenfold. Although she could practically taste the bloodlust coming from him in waves, she only found it all the more amusing. The mighty Goblin King in all his glory - completely vulnerable to her attacks! For once, they were on more than just a level playing field. _She_ actually had the advantage over _him!_

 

 _This is just too good,_ Sarah grinned. Finally, as she gulped sweet, victory-flavored air, she managed to quell her mirth. All that remained was the twinkle in her eye and a wide grin that was rather unsettling.

 

“No really, Jareth, I’m concerned,” she continued. Patting his knee patronizingly, she added with ill contained deviousness: “Maybe I should call the goblins to check up on you, hmm? They _must_ know what to do if they found their fearless leader in such a _compromising_ position.”

 

Jareth’s eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed. _You would not dare._

 

Sarah scoffed and began twirling her hair, as if disinterested by this whole affair. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t…” she answered his unspoken challenge cryptically. When she stood, it was not lost on her that his eyes followed her every move. She sauntered around his seat, letting her hips sway dramatically, before settling herself directly behind him - where his eyes could not trail her. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she placed her lips close to his pointed ears.

 

“But then, unlike your _generous_ self, I think I’m more selfish than that,” she drawled. Seductively, she grinned against his skin. “I want to keep you _all … to… myself.”_ Every word was punctuated by a ghosting of her lips over his earlobe, his cheek, his neck.  Then, just when she could sense him beginning to be drawn in, she lifted her hands to his hair and let the bomb drop.

 

“But really, your hair is so long that it quite gets in the way. Surely, it could do with a little trim -?”

 

The atmosphere crackled once again, and Sarah knew that her aim had been dead-on. She pretended to be oblivious.

 

“Hmm, what’s that, Jareth dear? A ‘fine idea’, you say? Well, if you insist…”

 

Retrieving some scissors from her kitchen junk drawer, Sarah returned to her seat before the Goblin King and wiggled them innocently at her captive. His eyes read murder.

 

“Now, you don’t need to be nervous. My first college roommate had a job as the hair stylist for all of our drama department’s productions, and she taught me quite well.” Sarah smiled with a sweetness that mocked the reassuring tone that she had adopted. Coyly, she flounced her way to stand behind Jareth’s seat once again, readying her weapon.

 

She gave herself a moment’s pause to reflect upon the future consequences of her actions. After all, Sarah was not sure how Jareth felt about his hair specifically, but it was clear that he was a very proud man. Yet, she had always wondered what he might look like with a shorter haircut, tussled and brushed back to better reveal his unearthly facial features. It was truly either now or never, as she seriously doubted that a chance like this would ever present itself again.

 

Besides, she had not been lying about her experience - Sarah actually _was_ quite good at cutting hair, and often did it for her friends for a cheap price. But Jareth didn’t need to know that.

 

Quickly, she took a detour to her kitchen to grab her customary hair-cutting towel to drape across Jareth’s shoulders, bringing some extra tools along with her. The moment she did so, the tension in the room thickened to become oppressive, as if he had not believed that she would go through with it until that moment. Sarah snickered in the face of danger. It was surprising how much fun she was having. She began to spray his hair down with a water bottle, combing it through to get rid of any knots.

 

“Oh, stop acting like it’s going to be the end of the world, you big baby,” she chided. “You’re going to look _great!_ Besides, I’m sure it’ll be easier to take care of when this wild mess of yours is shorter, anyway!”

 

With that assurance hanging in the air, Sarah finished her prep job and picked up her scissors. She fixed an image of what she wanted in her head - _Probably about cheekbone-length, and then I’ll have to use product to get it to do what I want -_ she took hold of the first strand of hair.

 

With a quiet _snip_ of the scissors, the lock fell away. Sarah grinned evilly at her power.

 

Her happy humming and the calculated snicks of the scissors were the only sounds in the room.

* * *

 

 

 _As soon as I am out of this mess,_ Jareth swore. _There will be hell to pay._

 

He had long since given up screaming curses, threats, torture techniques, and yes, even bribes at the Demon Woman… because all it really did was give him a headache, because she _could not even hear him._

 

He estimated that she was probably almost done with _defiling his hair,_ judging from the way that she was putting some kind of _goop_ in it and sweeping it whichever way she wanted.

 

 _Probably trying to make it look as ridiculous as possible,_ he grouched internally.

 

His only respite in this whole ordeal was when she had been forced to come to face-to-face with him in order to clip and style the front portions of his hair. He was slightly surprised that she had not been incinerated by the heat of his rage, but that was just luck for you. She had clucked at him disapprovingly, and said “You know, its rude to death-glare at someone when they are making you into a _masterpiece_ for _free”._ If he could have snorted derisively, he would have. _Masterpiece,_ indeed. His only hope was that the goblins never, _ever_ learned of this. If they did, he would have to construct some very serious wards around his room at night, unless he wanted to wake up to a new hairstyle every morning.

 

Sarah was muttering to herself now as her hands glided through his hair, and he imagined that she looked very concentrated. If he had not been so miserable, he might had admitted that the _whatever it was_ that she was putting in his hair, along with the feeling of her fingers threading through his recently shortened locks, was actually quite pleasant… but he _was_ miserable, so he would be admitting no such thing.

 

“A little touch-up here, and… we’re done!” Sarah smiled, and came to stand in front of him, surveying her work. She nodded, looking pleased with herself.

 

“ _Damn,_ I’m good. You really don’t appreciate the honor I have bestowed upon you, Jareth. I think this is the best haircut I’ve ever given!”

 

For the umpteenth time that evening, a quip and barb prickled on his tongue, but ultimately fizzled out uselessly. The worst part was, he could not even sulk properly without being able to form his lips into a scowl. For the love of the Underground, he could not even manage a measly pout!

 

Pouting, however, was the last thing he wanted to do when he heard Sarah’s next words.

 

“I have to go get a camera!”

 

Instead, he wanted nothing more than to scream.

* * *

 

 

By the time Sarah was done taking her pictures and torturing the Goblin King, she had already cleaned up her living room space from his fallen hair and chosen her favorite photos. The ‘torture’ part included _not_ letting him see the pictures. She knew what he thought he must look like, so she figured that it would be cruelest to disappoint his expectations by showing him how sexy he looked.

 

But truly, not even Sarah could have predicted how _good_ he looked with shorter hair, lightly styled to be swept back in waves over his forehead. He looked like a rock star, especially with his Fae markings under upswept eyebrows. She had been right in thinking that it would accentuate his features better, as well. His pointed slightly pointed ears could peek through now where before, they had been obscured by a curtain of blond. The cheekbones that had already looked high and sharp seemed more defined now, almost more dignified. The strong lines of his jaw bone and his thing, expressive mouth gave off a more serious air… although, that could have been because of the distinctly displeased look in his eyes in comparison to the impish one that she was so used to.

 

Sarah’s appreciative thoughts were interrupted by four massive gongs and the disappearance of the number ‘4’. Balking, she checked her own watch, in disbelief of how she had lost track of time. The watch had, of course, stopped ticking, much to her chagrin. In the end, she simply had to accept the time-keeping of the spell. She supposed that it wasn’t really all _that_ hard to believe that she had been taunting the Goblin King for about an hour now. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, after all.

 

Nevertheless, she decided that an hour had to be enough - for the time being, at least.

 

“Well,” she announced cheerfully, setting her camera in her knitting basket for safe keeping. “That’s my call - back to studying for me!”

 

Quickly, she set about bringing her nesting supplies and books into the living room, setting up camp on the futon. Just as she was setting her cheese puffs (an essential for any long-term study period) on the coffee table, she caught Jareth’s eyes.

 

 _What on_ earth _are you doing?_ they asked.

 

Sarah smiled brightly. “I’m going to keep you company, of course! I may not be the best conversation because I’ll be studying, and you’ll be… well, you know.” She smirked. “But I’m working on _your_ assigned reading anyway, so I figured that it’s only appropriate that you suffer along with me!”

 

Of course, Sarah did not really consider it suffering, but this was another detail that Jareth needn’t know.

 

Settling down to her books and notebooks, she tried looking at what she had written last in order to pick up where she left off. Quickly, her eyes scanned a page full of definitions and key points until they came to rest on one item, highlighted and starred:  
  


_ Tapestry (noun): Obviously in reference to something more than an Aboveground tapestry. Look into more later. _

 

Sarah smiled. Picking up _The History of the Labyrinth,_ she cracked it open and tried to pretend that she wasn’t showing off when she ordered, “Show me the Tapestry.”

 

Her eyes flicked upwards to gauge Jareth’s reaction, and she was pleased when she noted what seemed to be surprise and interest in his watchful gaze. Turning back to the book, her pleasure was instantly muted when she saw that there were only two pages glowing - one was from the beginning, in the introduction (which she remembered that she had shamefully skipped), and the other was towards the latter portion, which she had yet to read. The book, as with the other times, flipped itself open to the first section.

 

She had not been expecting to discover much as, in her experience, introductions were less instructive than they were insightful. She was pleasantly surprised, therefore, to find a solid page relating to what the author called the Tapestry of Kin.

 

 _For those who are unfamiliar with the Tapestry of King,_ it stated. _The Tapestry refers to the most ancient connection which severs Fae from humankind; the magical from the non-magical; the superior from the inferior._

 

Pointedly, Sarah ignored the last bit, and continued reading. What the passage described was… beautiful, fantastic, and remarkably familiar.

 

“‘And the Fae dance to the song of the magic, and find themselves a home within the Tapestry of Kin, sharing in the grandeur of unspeakable power and life. All within the Tapestry can see the Tapestry and are known as Weavers, privy to the threads of life and magic that connect all Weavers’,” she read aloud. With furrowed brow, she looked up and caught Jareth’s gaze, which was still regarding her carefully.

 

“This is what we did yesterday, isn’t it?” It was more a statement than a question. His eyes held hers, which she sense was a confirmation. “But then… why didn’t I experience it like this?”

 

The skin around his eyes tightened and they darted a few different places before landing back on her face. It was rather difficult understanding and interpreting emotions when he couldn’t even blink, but he seemed confused. _Whatever do you mean, precious?_

 

“I mean, this web of light thing that the book describes - I didn’t see anything like that. I only heard the most beautiful music and, suddenly, I could dance. It was like it was… guiding me, or something. But _this_ sounds like it’s on a completely different level!” she burst. “And _you_ said that I shouldn’t even be able to hear this music at all! So what gives?” She met his eyes again, noticing for the first time that, with his head frozen in one place, it almost looked as though he was watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

 

“Why am I caught in the middle, Jareth?” she asked quietly. Even more softly, almost not wanting to say it out loud, she added. “What’s wrong with me?”

 

It could have just been her imagination, but his eyes seemed to reflect her helplessness right back at her. _I do not know, precious. You are as much a mystery to me as you are to yourself._

 

With a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Sarah attempted to direct her train of thought elsewhere. “And another thing - if all Fae know about this dance inherently, why does the author describe it in such detail here?”

 

After a moment of thought, and a quick skim of the passages, Sarah’s eyes landed once again on five loaded words.

 

... _the superior from the inferior…_

 

With a bad feeling in her stomach, Sarah cleared her throat. “Jareth… are there _Fae_ who are like me? Fae who can’t see this?”

 

Jareth’s eyes were right where they always were. Of course he could not respond, but to Sarah, they seemed strangely sad. She picked up a sticky note and wrote down the question for later, but she was no longer sure that she really wanted the answer.

 

She may not have been an expert of Fae society, but she knew enough about humans, and she knew that they were similar. If there were Fae who could not see the Tapestry of Kin, Fae who were considered ‘inferior’... what happened to them?

 

Uneasily, Sarah opened _The History of the Labyrinth_ back to her last bookmark, away from the unsettling questions of the introduction.

 

Within the next hour, she managed to hack away at another chapter, through which she learned the intimate relationships and differences between the Redcap Goblins, and the Trolls. It was not long before she was swimming in new information again, miles away from her previous thoughts.

 

Redcaps were just as historically vicious as the Trolls, she learned, but less territorial about their prey. This made Redcaps more dangerous on a military expedition such as the one that led to the Battle of the Horned Mountains. Apparently, it did not matter when or where someone had a run-in with a Redcap, because they were ready for a fight and attacked at will.

 

Trolls, on the other hand, though larger, were more inclined to avoid conflict as long as their territory was not jeopardized. She _also_ learned that, while Trolls were known to stake claim over bridges, it was a complete myth that these were the only areas that they inhabited. In fact, Trolls often traded off their guarding posts at bridges because they were too close to water. As it happened, Trolls actually detested water because there was a superstition among Trolls that ‘a clean Troll was a powerless Troll’. Sarah grimaced and made a mental note to keep hand sanitizer handy if she ever needed to go to the Troll Kingdom.

 

She also learned about the various dangers of the Horned Mountains, which were nestled in the border between the Troll and Goblin Kingdoms. These included poisonous plants, _venomous_ plants - one called ‘Medusa’s Orphan’ seemed particularly scary, as it had the striking power of a snake and the recuperative power of a weed - and tribal, semi-sedentary groups that moved around with the seasons.

 

When Sarah came to the close of the chapter and began to read about the _advantages_ of the Horned Mountains, her mind switched completely into skimming-mode. She caught a few sentences about minerals that had magic-absorbing, magic-filtering, and magic-honing capabilities, but she did not bother to write down the names. In her mind, they were now dubbed

‘Randomite’, ‘Something Ore’, and ‘Blahblah-ium”

 

All of this information and more bounced around in Sarah’s head until the sound of five distinct gongs and the subsequent sound of shattering crystal startled her into the real world. Looking up from her book, she almost gave a sigh of relief when she noted that she only had maybe six or seven more chapters to read before it was dusted. Feeling a little proud, she calculated that she had spent roughly ten cumulative hours on the text, between the long snatches and the short ones combined. She knew that it would have taken at least twice as long if not for all of the skimming she had done earlier, but she felt like she had put her time to good use nonetheless.

 

Just closed the book and stretched her arms above her head, pretending to be oblivious to the way Jareth’s eyes were instantly glued to her body. She felt like rolling her eyes, but also felt a pang of sympathy.

 

_He’s probably bored out of his mind, just watching me read._

 

There was really very little that she could do about that, considering that the entire reason why he had _given_ her the crystal in the first place had been to do this reading. She supposed that she could put a movie on her laptop for him to watch, but she preferred studying in silence, and she very much doubted that he would appreciate it. If there would be any movie watching tonight, it would be when Sarah could fully bask in his irritability and inability to act on it.

 

She glanced at the glowing time border, which had only just left the number ‘5’ destroyed.

 

 _Well,_ she thought. _Here’s to the next eight hours._

 

She stood and perched herself on her coffee table, attracting Jareth’s eyes, which were partially hidden on one side by a fallen lock of newly-styled bangs. Sarah resisted the urge to run her hands through his hair again, refusing to remember how silky and wonderful it had been. He _really_ looked good with that haircut.

 

 _And I bet that piece of hair in his eyes is bothering the hell out of him,_ she smirked inwardly. _Wouldn’t want to disturb the balance!_

* * *

 

 

Jareth glared at the hair falling over his right eye.

 

 _If you do not desist with your unruliness this instant,_ he scowled at it. _I will be forced to raze you and all of your loved ones to the ground._

 

The lock of hair twitched in a faint draft, but held its spot, as if mocking him. It _knew_ that he could do nothing to harm it… and, what was more, that there would be no ‘razing the the ground’ so long as it was attached to his head.

 

Jareth fumed. What kind of world was it when a man could _literally_ not hurt a single hair on his head, even if he wanted to?

 

His mutinous attention was diverted when the source of all his problems came and sat in front of him.

 

“Alright, Goblin King,” she chirped. He was instantly on guard. “ _You_ were the one who assigned me this light reading… so which is most important?” She held up the same _History of the Labyrinth_ volume that he, himself, had learned from so long ago, and the singularly useful copy of _Politics and Pushovers._ “I’ve read most of the history one, but honestly, how much about the Battle of the Horned Mountains am I going to need to know for a _ball?_ ”

 

Jareth felt like smirking. She needed to know absolutely _nothing_ about the Battle of the Horned Mountains, but telling her that might not settle well, seeing as she had apparently just spent about an hour on that chapter. Not that he could tell her that right now anyway.

 

He briefly considered telling her with his eyes to read the rest of the history, but it truly was in his best interest if she understood Underground politics before the ball. Pointedly, he stared at the longer book in her left hand. Although he had tried to remain casual about the whole affair, the nobility of the Underground could be ruthless if not treated carefully.

 

When she followed his gaze to the politics book, she smiled brightly and returned to nestle into her seat. Jareth’s eyes followed her warily for a moment or two, unwilling to believe that she was so harmless. _He_ certainly would not be if their positions were reversed. Besides, the air that he could now feel drafting around his neck was proof that she could be just as devious as he.

 

Sarah, sensing his eyes, looked back up to him just as she was opening the chosen book. Seeming to understand the dubious expression in his eyes, she grinned.

 

“Don’t worry, Goblin King. There will be plenty of time to play after I do my homework.”

 

If he had control over his facial features, the Goblin King would have frowned deeply. He was unsure if he had heard anything so foreboding.

 

Along the border of Sarah’s stunted apartment living room, the time continued to tick away with crystalline precision.

 

Many page turns, position shifting, yawning, and munching later, Jareth could feel his blood pressure rising. The only sound in the room was the click of Sarah’s pencil against her notebook as she frowned at a passage, as if trying to disentangle it. Jareth would have loved to help her… if only to stop that _infernal_ noise.

 

Unfortunately, Sarah was too engrossed in whatever it was that she was reading to notice his heated glares. If he had a wall, he would bang his head against it. That was, if he had been able to _move._

 

As if to make matters worse, a deadly itch had begun to form on his right thigh. It was such a simple thing, to scratch an itch. Yet, like the gaily waving lock of hair in his eyes, it continued to taunt him magnificently.

 

Blessedly, the sound was broken by another. Six gongs echoed through the room, and Sarah was startled enough to break out of her bubble and stop her tapping.

 

If Jareth could have sighed in relief and wept for joy, he would have.

 

Little did he know that the next six hours would be characterized by their own specific ticks, torments, and teases. The journey, for the Goblin King, had only just begun.

 

And time, for once, was much, _much_ longer than he thought.

 

_Hour Number Six_

 

“This can’t be right!” Sarah finally burst. She had resumed her reading easily enough after the interruption of the crystal’s spell, and had been flipping pages and searching for answers for a solid ten minutes. “This just doesn’t make any sense! It _can’t_ be right!”

 

She turned her heated gaze to him with enough intensity to make him jump, if he had been able. “Jareth, _tell me_ this isn’t true!”

 

When he remained silent, she threw up her hands in frustration, remembering his predicament.

 

“It’s this _thing,_ and it’s so messed up that I don’t want to believe it, but it isn’t mentioned barely _anywhere_ else…” She huffed. Grabbing the book, she flipped to the page she was so occupied with and began to read aloud.

 

“‘Because of the childbearing difficulties of the Fae, the High Queen, when Chosen, is bestowed with the power of fertility unseen in any other Fae female. Whereas most Fae women are considered fortunate to bear a single child, and inordinately blessed to bear two, High Queens throughout Underground history have generally born upwards of ten children during their reigns. When they resign, as all must do by the decree of the magic which chose them in the first place, they resume their previous state of infertility along with most of the Fae woman population’.” When she had finished, she looked up, all aglow with indignant righteousness. “How messed up is _that?_ ”

 

For once, Jareth found himself at a loss. Even if he had been able to respond, he doubted that he would have had the answer that Sarah was so obviously looking for. For the first time since this whole predicament, he was very glad that he had an excuse for not saying anything.

 

The gift of childbearing was necessary for the High Queen to have, as it increased the odds of having a suitable candidate for the next Choosing. While it was, of course, possible for Fae not of direct descent from the High Royalty lineage, it was also much more common for a High Prince or Princess to be chosen.

 

Despite his silence, however, Sarah seemed to understand him by the look in his eyes. He was forced to look away from the crestfallen expression on her face.

 

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

 

Jareth grimaced internally. She sounded almost… disappointed. He knew that he had no reason to, but he immediately found himself feeling ashamed and defensive by turns. After all, why _would_ he see whatever problem she was seeing? This was his culture, his world - it was what he knew and lived every day. Who was she to make judgments about it?

 

“Never mind. Just forget I said anything,” she grumbled. Peevishly flipping past the next few pages, she settled into the next chapter, but not before he thought he heard her whisper. _“It’s just not fair…”_

 

Feeling perplexed and not a little put out, Jareth responded in his mind, perhaps a little coldly.

 

_I wonder what your basis for comparison is?_

 

_Hour Number Seven_

 

In the latter half of the Sixth Hour of Torture, Sarah had seemed to cool down and forget - if only temporarily - her qualms with her reading. Her renewed, relaxed position set him more at ease. She even laughed occasionally at something within the book’s text. Although, what could be so humorous in a _politics book_ was beyond him.

 

The crystal announced the turning of the seventh hour in this atmosphere. He was unsure if time had ever passed with such unbearably lethargic progress. Perhaps there was a flaw with the Time Crystal.

 

 _Impossible,_ he thought. _I constructed it myself!_

 

To his own indignation, he failed to be comforted.

 

Sarah, quite apart from his agitation, stretched and rolled her shoulders as she came to the end of yet another chapter. She looked around her, blinking as if emerging from darkness to light for the first time. Checking her watch, she gasped.

 

“Wow, this time is really flying by!”

 

In that moment, Jareth thought he understood what humans meant by ‘justifiable homicide’.

 

As if to add insult to injury, the most natural, yet inexplicably ill-timed occurrence chose that moment to manifest.

 

Jareth’s stomach roared.

* * *

 

 

Sarah nearly yelped when she heard the growling sound, thinking that a wild animal had somehow found its way into her apartment. Then reality caught up to her, and reminded her that she lived on the second storey.

 

_What on earth…?_

 

Casting around, Sarah stopped short when she noticed that the Goblin King’s eyes were very pointedly _not_ on her for once. She paused.

 

“Jareth,” she started incredulously. “Was that _you?_ ”

 

His eyes flicked briefly to her before staring resolutely ahead. _I am preparing myself for anything and everything that you can throw at me,_ they said.

 

For the second time that day, Sarah broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. She only laughed harder when Jareth refused to look at her again. “Oh, come on, Jareth, you _know_ it’s funny!” His eyes seemed to disagree.

 

_This just keeps getting better and better!_

 

As if in belated empathy, Sarah’s own stomach rumbled a bit - though nowhere near to the extent of the Goblin King’s.

 

Then, as though bestowed upon her by some Muse of Trickery, the next plan to torment the Goblin King was hatched inside of her head.

 

She had roughly seven hours left with which to do her homework. A girl had to do _something_ to unwind a little! All work and no play made Sarah a dull scholar.

 

Her grin was laced with evil intentions. She doubted that even the Goblin King, master of mischief himself, would dare to call her _dull_ after this evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Special Credit goes to Honoria Granger and my good friend, Pippy Longstocking (no, that’s not her real name, but you thought I would tell you what it was? I mean, come on. There are some WEIRD PEOPLE who read Labyrinth fanfic!) FOR BEING MY FANTASTIC EDITORS! This story would not be improving without you!**


	6. No Place Like Home

Chapter Six - No Place Like Home

"I don't know where I'm going, but I'm going. Are you coming with me?" - Unknown

oOo

_Hour Number Seven - Continued_

Sarah stirred the ladle in her hastily heated Progresso stew, mouth watering and mind whirring. The Goblin King was sitting, frozen as ever within the time trap of his own spell, in her living room with a stomach that sounded like a beast. Her own stomach whined contemptuously, having only been fed with an orange from breakfast and junk food from studying.

She snickered to herself, imagining his glare when he saw her eating - even if it was just re-heated soup.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want some?" she rehearsed, cloyingly innocent. "No? Ah, well, more for me then!"

If someone asked her why she was so giddy about having a one-up on His Highness of High Horses, she was not sure she could have given a coherent answer. He was just always so poised and polished, always one step ahead - barring, perhaps, the thirteenth hour on that fateful night so many years ago. In any other situation, it seemed as though he always held all the cards. In the Labyrinth, he had been magical and devious where she had been clumsy and dependent upon friends. He was ethereal and graceful where she was ordinary and _human_. He was commanding and devil-may-care while she worried life to bits and then analyzed the pieces. Even with their deal - even though she had been the one to propose it - _he_ was sultry and satisfying where she was raw and clawing.

If she could make him a little uncomfortable by having some stew, then she was damn well going to enjoy it. Maybe she'd kill two birds with one stone and use that 'Sexy Spoon Licking' technique that Amanda had showed her once. After all, who said that hunger only came from the stomach?

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Sarah poured a bowl of soup for herself, holding it carefully between both hands as she made her way to her futon seat. She briefly considered grabbing a fresh peach from the refrigerator for symbolic reasons, but decided against it lest she spill her soup all over herself.

Walking carefully, she tried to be as silent as possible, hoping to work in a scare factor as well. The Goblin King was in the same position as always, of course. It put a slight damper on her mischievous planning when she realized that she would not be able to see him jump even if she _did_ scare him. She pouted - what a pity.

As if he could sense her - or, perhaps, smell her food - his stomach let loose another animalistic roar just as she was behind him. Startled, she stopped. In that moment, she forgot about her plan and her own hunger. Sarah felt the warmth in her hands, the scent of her meal, and… the frustration in the air. Something had changed.

 _This is wrong,_ a voice in her mind piped up.

Sarah hesitated, feeling as though a spell had been broken. But what was so wrong? It was just harmless pranking, wasn't it? What was there to get worked up about?

Shaking her head at herself, she took another step, but stopped when an echoing groan sounded from the Goblin King. He still couldn't see her, she knew, which made his sound all the more piercing. She had the feeling that he would not dare make such a sound in her presence - it sounded too much like he was suffering.

 _He's actually in pain,_ she realized with a start. She looked down at the steaming bowl in her hands. Where only minutes ago it had made her mouth water, now she could hardly swallow for the dryness of her throat. _And I was going to taunt him with that?_

Without another thought, she quickly pivoted and retreated to the kitchen area. Shakily, she set her bowl down on the counter and stared at it as though it was a poisoned apple. She frowned, suddenly conflicted and not quite knowing the reason why. Desperately, as if seeking approval - from whom, she did not know - she tried to see her prank in the carefree light that she had imagined it just minutes ago.

It was futile. Now it seemed more like she had been planning to eat fresh steak in front of a starved, chained dog. She felt disgust rise in the back of her throat like bile.

 _I don't want to be like that._ No one should. All of her reasoning from just moments before seemed dashed to pieces. She thought that she could taunt someone with hunger because she felt… what? Inferior? Threatened? Sarah grimaced, hands gripping her kitchen counter painfully. She sounded like a villain in a children's story. _That's not who I am._

Taking a deep breath, she made quick work of dumping the remaining soup into a Tupperware container. She paused when she reached her bowl, but found that she no longer had an appetite. Even the idea of eating now made her feel ashamed of herself. Wordlessly, she emptied it into another container and stored them both in her refrigerator. She took her time washing her dishes as well, trying to stave off the feeling of guilt, suddenly dreading being within the Goblin King's gaze once more.

 _You have nothing to be guilty about, technically,_ she reminded herself. _You turned back before you really did anything!_

Then why did she still feel the cowardly urge to run and hide in the safety of her bedroom?

 _You're being ridiculous,_ she scolded herself as she laid out the last of the dishes to dry. With a pang, she remembered Jareth's barb the other night.

_Childish..._

She grimaced, feeling the prick of the accusation ever more sharply. Yet, nothing would be more childish than suddenly retreating to her room and hiding from her own conscience.

With false bravado, she propelled herself into the living room to stand before the Goblin King, looking much more commanding than she felt.

"Okay, so here's the deal - "

She was immediately interrupted by a slightly less thunderous rumbling sound emanating from Jareth. His eyes said that he was less than pleased.

Feeling her confident front waver, Sarah bit her lip. When her unsure gaze met his steadfastly perturbed one, it was all over. With a frustrated sigh, Sarah threw up her hands and cracked.

"Don't _look_ at me like that! I really can't do anything about it, and you know it! Your mouth is _closed._ And even if it wasn't closed, I'd have to feed you something you didn't have to chew, and even _then_ we're not sure if your esophagus would work correctly, and you could choke and die, and _then_ where would we be?" She was exasperated and babbling, and she knew it. Despite the truth in her words, she found that she could not meet his eyes. She forced herself to anyway, finding that her jaw set on its own in defense against his accusing glare. Crossing her arms, she resurrected her facade. "Besides, this _was_ your mistake in the first place. I certainly didn't ask you to come make yourself at home in _my_ favorite love-seat before I broke the Time Crystal, now did I?"

When her answer went unanswered in the silence, she huffed. "Exactly. So you can take your -" she gestured wildly at him, "- _psycho voodoo eyes_ and glare at something else. In the meantime, _I_ have some studying to do."

Not five seconds later, barely even giving Sarah enough time to dramatically flop on her futon, the crystal shattered into the next hour. Feeling a cold wave of shock wash over her, she realized that the entire last hour had been practically wasted. Her head hit the back of her cushion, eyes closed, willing the tension to seep out of her neck and shoulders. She filled her lungs with air deeply and slowly, attempting to remember the advice from all of those yoga classes from freshman year.

The chiming ended. Silence, if not tranquility, reigned once more. Sarah's lungs deflated until there was nothing left. She opened her eyes, picked up the last book on her list - Jareth's overview of the Fae Court - and began to read.

_Hour Number Eight_

About thirty minutes into reading the amalgamation of Fae Courtiers, Sarah was beginning to realize how fruitless it was to try and keep them all straight in her head.

With a groan and a sigh, she set the book down on the table, trying to focus on dispelling her early headache. Leaning her elbows forward on her knees, she rubbed at her temples.

"This," she said to herself, "is ridiculous. I feel like I'm cramming for midterms, or something - only that I've missed most of the semester of classes and I'm trying to learn it all in one day!" She threw up her arms in disbelief, flopping back on her futon to stare at the Goblin King in bafflement. "There are _so many._ Do I really need to know all of these?"

The cutting look from Jareth was probably a 'yes'. Sarah huffed.

"Well, do _you_ know all of these?"

He rolled his eyes and stared ahead of him, as if not even deigning to acknowledge the question with an answer. _Get back to your reading, silly Sarah._

She pursed her lips. "Hmph. Easy for you to say."

What she had not realized was that the Fae Court was divided into several small sub-kingdoms - almost like clans - that were further ranked by what ring they were in. Then there were those who intermarried between rings and clans, and whose children had married as well, and it resulted in a tangled knot of kinship that she was powerless to unravel.

 _I want to just tear these pages out!_ she thought in frustration. _Maybe then it'd be easier to see, at least._

_Just tear them out..._

Struck by sudden inspiration, Sarah sat bolt upright. Quickly, so as not to lose what little steam she had left, she ran back to her room and began rummaging.

"Ha!" she exclaimed triumphantly, feeling significantly more optimistic. If she noticed Jareth's inquisitive stare as she hurried back to her seat, she made no note of it. One of the projects in an old anthropology class - an elective she had taken out of curiosity - had been to construct a kinship map or family tree. The only mediums that they were allowed to use were note cards with brief profiles, tied together with color-coded string to create a web. Sarah had been surprised as how fun it had been, and how much she had learned - it was like constructing chemical equations with people. _This_ family and _that_ family are the reactants to produce a whole new generation, bonded together now by a simple marriage or two.

She just hoped that it would help her again.

Spreading her materials, she quickly took inventory. She had about one hundred note cards left over, yarn the colors of black, red, and white, and a box of thumbtacks that might come in handy. With an uneasy glance at Jareth's book, she confirmed the suspicion that one hundred would hardly be enough… but it was a start. Thinking carefully, she grabbed the text and flipped to the oldest personage that she could find, and began to work from there.

* * *

When the crystal shattered into the ninth hour roughly thirty minutes later, Jareth was too absorbed in watching Sarah's new project to even think about hunger anymore. For the last half hour, she had been hard at work turning the blank wall of her apartment into a map - maybe 'web' was a better word? - of family and relations that he had known his whole life. She had ended up grabbing a chair from her kitchenette in order to use as much room as she possibly could, from top to bottom. Every time she posted a new one, she would read his little booklet - highly condensed, of course, to only the most important circles, whose toes she had to avoid stepping on - she would mutter to herself, scribble a few things on the card, and tack it on the wall before moving on. She was truly immersed and focused, and he was surprised to see the circles of the Fae Court already expressed so clearly on her wall. He never would have thought of viewing them that way, but there they were all the same.

As the nine reverberations made themselves heard, Sarah took a breath and stood back to survey her work. Jareth thought that she looked very pleased with herself. In all honesty, it was a refreshing change from the previously sullen, cooped-up air about her when she was reading nonstop. She took a brief break to tear up more paper, presumably for use in her project.

Just as she wiped at her forehead and seemed to be about to get back to work, she paused and cocked her head at her web. With a beguiled little crease between her brows, she stepped forward and touched a single notecard. She muttered something outside of Jareth's hearing, but turned back to the book and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

" _Liadin."_ Her mouth formed the syllables based off of the phonetic break-down beside the name: _lee-din_. "Daughter of the King of Shadows. How odd…" Looking between the book and the wall, she stepped back again, tracing the family lines with her finger. "Out of all the old clans with a single child, she's the only one who hasn't married."

She looked back at the book. "She's beautiful… and rather scary. It says here that 'among all the Fae in the Outer Circle, she and her father have the strongest prejudice against humans and adhere strongly to the traditional ideology of humans as inferior beings'." She seemed to shiver. "Guess I'll just being staying away from her, then, won't I?"

_If all goes well, my dear._

But Sarah, of course, could not hear him, and was instead studying the wall once again.

"But really, she's not all that different from the others. Just about every single family has at least one human slave per household, if the history book is correct. Even if it wasn't, _your_ overview paints half-bloods and kidnapped human spouses as outcasts or worse." She turned to him with her hands on her hips. "How _exactly_ do you think this is going to work?"

When he just stared at her, she huffed again. "Of course. You can't answer me. How convenient, right?" Her mouth quirked and she shook her head. Jareth's attention was instantly diverted to her lips, and his desire to be unfrozen suddenly intensified. Seeing the same smirk he often wore draping itself across her mouth was surprisingly alluring. "I guess you're kind of useless to me until you can answer my questions, huh?"

Jareth definitely would have taken offense to that, if he had been paying attention.

Sarah breathed noisily through her teeth and returned her attention to her book and wall, ultimately turning her back on him. Jareth was most certainly _not_ disappointed.

"Well… back to work, then."

* * *

_Hour Number Nine_

Another forty-five minutes later showed Sarah's apartment wall to be completely taken over with a mess of note cards, scraps of torn paper, and strings of different colors. One of the family trees had spilled onto the floor, and she was currently going through the painstaking process of moving one around to make room. She had to move her chair multiple times and nearly fell more than once. Sometimes she would step back to see how it was looking, only to curse when she realized that it all needed to be shifted over just a smidge _that_ way, or the whole thing wouldn't work. Once, when she tugged too hard on a car, the string came loose from it, making the entire string-and-note-card web to come fluttering to the floor, tangling itself. It had taken her ten minutes just to make a new card and get the web to working condition.

The final straw, however, came when her thumb-tacking got just a _touch_ too frustrated. One moment, she was jabbing one faded note card next to another, muttering under her breath, and the next, she had a tack sticking halfway through the flesh of her thumb. She yelped, and truly _would_ have fallen backwards if she had been standing on her chair.

Involuntary tears burned her eyes at the same time that bright red blood began to swell from the small wound. Immediately, she stuck it in her mouth, trying to lav away the coppery taste. She sniffed. It was definitely deeper than she had thought it was.

_Well, at least the tacks aren't rusty. Heaven knows that I need to go in and pay for a tetanus shot like a hole in the head._

Sarah turned to go get her first aid kit, but stopped when she noticed the Goblin King's eyes. They seemed to be crossed between laughing at her, and showing concern.

 _Oh, precious thing,_ they said. _Did the nasty, mean, evil drawing pin bite you?_

"Put a sock in it, Goblin King," she mumbled around her thumb.

She went into her bathroom and found a Hello Kitty Band-Aid (compliments of Toby - "Because you're a girl!"), and dressed her battle wound. It throbbed unpleasantly, and she could already see a little red dot forming on Hello Kitty's cheek, but she supposed that it would have to do.

Returning to her wall, she ignored the Goblin King's gaze at her back, and took care to not lose her temper with the thumbtacks. The crystal cracked into the next hour.

_Hour Number Ten_

Nevertheless, it had been worth it, she thought - although it looked more than a little chaotic, it had been tremendously helpful and, if she squinted, she could see a pattern throughout the different families. She had one final note card left over, complete with name and little else.

Looking at it with resignation, she tried to tell herself not to be surprised. In her defense, she would have tacked it with the others long ago, but it said nothing of the Fae's parentage, spouse, or offspring.

All it said was _Jareth the Goblin King._

Sarah turned abruptly and waved the book turned to the offending page in its namesake's direction. "What exactly is this about, hmm? What, did you just _pop_ into existence, tight pants and all, to rule over some labyrinthine kingdom?"

When he pointedly looked at the ceiling, she huffed and stomped her way over to him like a petulant child. Feeling quite at her wit's end at being so close to finishing her project and denied the last hurrah, her hands closed in on either side of his face, surprising her prey enough to get him to look at her. She could feel a muscle in her cheek twitch.

"I have been working on this for _hours,_ Goblin King," she muttered threateningly. " _Hours._ I am doing this all so that I might understand _your world_ better, at _your request,_ so that I might not make a fool of myself at this damn ball that _you_ signed me up for."

Slowly, she brought her face closer to his, never breaking eye contact, fighting the urge to snarl in frustration. "So _why,_ " she ground out, "must you make everything so _difficult."_

The Goblin King's eyes had widened slightly, much to Sarah's pleasure. She was just about to call it a victory when she noticed his eyes dilate slightly and flick down to her lips, which just happened to be in an angry pout. That was when she realized that this was the first time that their faces had been so close since he got here. She could map out the exotic space pattern in his irises - the cold blue that spoke of winds rising goose flesh on her arms, and the molten golden-brown that spoke of lava at her core.

Sarah might not have even realized that she was slowly being hypnotized if one small detail about his eyes had not cut into her consciousness: the longer she lingered, the more his eyes shone as though they belonged to the cat who ate the canary - the more he looked like he was gloating.

With a quick inward breath, she straightened, as though the air in her lungs was also blowing her face away from his. When the breath subsequently left her in a heavy sigh, she put her hands on her hips and tossed the thoroughly read overview onto its author's lap.

"Well, that's quite enough of that, I think," she stated briskly. Whether by 'that' she meant 'studying' or 'staring far too deep into the Goblin King's eyes for my own good', even she didn't know. "Time for a study break, if I don't say so myself." It was probably long _past_ time for a study break, actually. Her eyes stung and her head felt numbed with information. She would have to find a way to make a study guide later… after a good nap. But first, she had one last task to check off of her wishlist for this _enchanted_ day.

The triumphant look in his eyes faded cautiously into a more wary one. Sarah smiled innocently and went off to find what she had in mind, grabbing her laptop along the way.

_Hour Number Twelve_

The next thing the Goblin King knew, Sarah was wedging herself between him and the arm of the love-seat, balancing her foldable piece of technology between them. She brought a blanket with her, and proceeded to make herself quite comfortable. His only wish was that he could at least turn his head so that he could glare effectively.

_What game are you playing at now, woman?_

"Oh, this? This isn't much… just a chick flick to unwind. You don't mind, do you, Jareth?"

Jareth would have blinked in surprise if he could, and not for the first time that day. How she managed to respond to his thoughts with such accuracy was beyond him.

But that was not what was important right now. What was important was what exactly a _chick flick_ was, and what form of torture it would become.

After clicking a few buttons here and there on her contraption, followed by some odd whirring noises from the machine, light and sound blossomed on the screen. Sarah removed her hands from the typing area and began to simply watch. With a distinct lack of options, the Goblin King hesitantly followed suit.

The background image looked vaguely blue and sparkling, with music playing that was definitely not from this era. Words - primarily names and their titles - phased in and out, written in pink. Finally, a title appeared that was not a name, and was in the center of the screen, written more largely than any of it predecessors. Jareth deducted that this made it important. It read simply:

_13 Going on 30_

* * *

Fifty seven minutes later, Sarah was snoozing softly in the crook of Jareth's neck, but his eyes were riveted to the "chick flick".

He was absolutely fascinated. The screen told a story of magic that only the most talented of his people had been able to master beyond illusion - age travel. Although, it was rather flawed, in his opinion… a human skipping from age thirteen to age thirty with no memories of the lapsing time? The idea was just silly and impractical - what was the point of age travel in that case? Still, the story itself showed him a side of humanity that he was rather familiar with - simply with brighter colors and rather staged circumstances and performances. The cruelty of human youth was one of the main driving factors of his kingdom's business and, as it just so happened, of this story's plot.

Yet, this displayed not just the manipulative ways of youth, but those of the 'matured' as well. Jareth felt himself drawn into the story despite its lack of sense and general ridiculousness. Without warning, he found himself very much attached to the fate of Jenna, the main character, especially at the current moment in the bard. She was realizing that the life she so _wished_ for was not everything that she had hoped, and she was beginning to understand the price she had paid to be so swindled. His heart ached in solemn empathy. No one knew better than he that wishes could be dangerous, heartless things.

Just as poor Jenna seemed at the very lowest she could get and he anxiously awaited the turn of the plot, a terrible, awful, horrific thing happened. The Time Crystal shattered out of its spell.

The machine's screen fuzzed and blipped into blackness, a side effect as waves of magic flowed through the air like ripples. The moment the first wave hit him, his muscles abruptly relaxed as though he was being transformed from automaton to human. Immediately, he unfolded his legs and was about to stretch himself when a sleepy noise to his right reminded him that he had become Sarah's pillow. Uncertainly, he paused, instinctively not wanting to disturb her rest, but torn by the urge to obey his body's needs and maybe wreak some revenge.

He never needed to make the choice. As he craned to view her face - cracking his stiffened neck in the process - he saw that she was already awakening. Her eyes did not find his, however, or not right away. She was transfixed by the pulses of magic emanating throughout the room as their time bubble reordered itself. The chimes continued counting up to thirteen, and the sun in the sky reversed its pattern outside the window. As all the other times that Sarah had been in contact with magic, her face was a tapestry of awe. The green of her eyes reflected the golden waves threading themselves throughout her living room, with the western sunrise fading fast in the distance. Mouth slightly agape, her lips turned blissfully upwards as she closed her eyes and seemed to listen - the more the crystal chimed, the stronger the magic's song became. Jareth found himself in marvel as well, but not of the magic that he was sure he took for granted. Rather, he was astounded still that this seemingly ordinary human woman could be so in tune with his world, and could be so breathtaking in her rapture of it. Of a will not his own, his hand rose so that his thumb could graze her jawline, as though tentatively touching a piece of art. Some kind of spell was weaving itself around him, and he could not find it within himself to care one whit.

Her eyes reopened in a way that reminded him of clouds parting to reveal the sun. The magic in the air seemed to have descended in a residual haze, because even as one spell unwound itself, another breathed itself into her irises. More emerald and clear than he could remember ever seeing them, Jareth could bring himself to belief for a brief second that perhaps she did have some Fae blood within her.

Then the gold faded with the last chime of the crystal - the sun was in the same position it had been when Sarah had begun the spell, and everything was as it should have been. Her eyes still managed to make him feel as though it would be to miss something spectacular if he looked away.

After a moment, she began smiling slowly - the Goblin King would almost call it 'bashful', if he believed that Sarah Williams had ever been bashful a single day in her life.

"Hi," she murmured. He arched an eyebrow in response. In truth, he could not seem to find his voice. It didn't seem to matter - her grin simply grew more mischievous. "So… how'd you like the movie?"

 _The what?_ Jareth blinked, taken aback by the odd question… and by the fact that she had not realized just how completely he had been under her spell. Close call, that.

Then he fully realized what she had just asked, and what it meant.

"Jenna!" His eyes widened. Looking around, he saw that the machine Sarah had used had toppled to the floor at some point, muffled and cushioned by a stray pillow from Sarah's nest. Jareth lunged for it, turning it this way and that, despite the screen's determination to stay dark. With wild eyes, he turned to Sarah. "What happens? In the story, how does it end? Does Jenna begin a new life with Matt, the honest human friend? Does she succumb to her life after her ill-fated wish? Does her annoying blond friend get her comeuppance?"

To his chagrin, Sarah only stared at him with what seemed to be shock. In a moment, she had bubbled into incredulous laughter, even as he grasped at her shoulders.

"What is it, woman? _What_?"

"You - I can't believe that you're - " Sarah wheezed. Rather uselessly, she attempted to pat him on the chest in consolation. Clearing her throat, but speaking with a grin in her voice still, she continued, "If I had known that movie would have gotten you into such a tizzy, I wouldn't have even bothered cutting your hair."

A wave of shock hit Jareth like a bucket of ice. His hands flew from Sarah's shoulders to his considerably lighter head. He managed to restrain himself from shouting in surprise at being reminded, but Sarah's expression of barely-contained mirth said that it mattered little. He conjured a crystal and transfigured it into a small mirror, pointedly not looking Sarah in the eyes and making much ado about looking foreboding.

_It looks… appealing._

He blinked and stared a few more moments, bringing a tentative hand up to feel the shortened style. He had completely forgotten about his intention to satisfy his morbid curiosity and then turn it back to normal immediately.

_Why does it look appealing?_

A snicker to his right made him jerk his head in that direction, caught between a glare and a look of bafflement.

"What's the matter, Goblin King?" Sarah crooned mischievously. "Would look you like something more goblin-worthy?"

At his look of bordering hostility, the imp beside him burst into laughter once more. "Oh, come on! You like it, admit it!"

Jareth promptly stood and made himself look regal in an act to cover up the intense need to stretch. "I will do no such thing - because that would be completely and utterly ludicrous."

Just as Sarah stood and opened her mouth to retort, an odd kind of high-pitched gurgling, rumbling sound penetrated the room. Both stood in silence for a moment, puzzled, wondering if they had heard correctly. Then, with wide eyes, Sarah looked down at her stomach in bewilderment.

Eyes darting uncertainly from Sarah's face to her stomach, Jareth's own eyes widened when he realized what she was implicating. "That was _you?"_

Sarah didn't look up. "I've never heard it make that sound before."

"Didn't you eat - "

"It sounded like something was dying in the Bog!" She exclaimed, horrified.

"Yes, but why are you - "

"Jareth, should I be worried?" She sounded on the verge of hysteria.

"Sarah!" Exasperated, he grasped her shoulders. "First of all, no, you will be fine - I have heard much stranger sounds come from a human's stomach over the millennium and although _that_ was certainly odd, it was not worrisome. Secondly," he frowned and looked her in the eyes. "Why are you so famished in the first place? You did eat earlier, did you not?"

Sarah blushed and evaded direct eye contact, mumbling a response low enough that even his Fae hearing could not catch it.

"Sarah…" he warned.

She huffed. "I _said_ that I didn't _exactly_ eat earlier."

Jareth released her shoulders at the same time that his eyebrows rose inquisitively. "Whyever not?"

"It… I don't know..." she struggled for the right words, shrugging. "It wouldn't have been right."

This quiet admission momentarily stunned Jareth into silence. He had to admit to himself - he was impressed. Although he had glared and looked surly, he honestly would not have held anything against her if she had satisfied her hunger while he could not. So, while it was perhaps a foolish thing to have done, he was touched by her integrity nonetheless. Few humans had ever had the knack to surprise him as much as Sarah did.

"Well then, precious, I'll cut you a deal." He drawled, melting back into his character. "Why don't you fix us both up some…" He glanced at a clock. "... _breakfast,_ and all will be forgiven."

She smiled slowly up at him, reflecting some of his own cockiness back at him. "Even your hair?"

Jareth pursed his lips. "Yes, I suppose - even the hair."

She grinned, and stuck out her hand. "Deal."

* * *

As the heady scent of the twice-reheated stew met her nostrils, Sarah could not help but feel as though she might drown in her own saliva. Nothing had ever smelled so good! Her stomach pined even as she raised the first scalding bit to her lips, effectively turning a portion of her tastebuds into sandpaper. It was still satisfying, however, hearty and filling. So focused were both of them on sating their appetites, in fact, that the only sounds in the room to be heard for many minutes afterward were the desperate clinking of spoons and slurping of mouthfuls.

The soup did not last long. Jareth, understandably, finished first, but Sarah was only a few bowl-licks behind him.

When both bowls were set on her kitchen counter, the two just stared at each other, as if trying to process what had just occurred. They looked at each others' empty bowls. Jareth noticed that Sarah had a bit of broth on her lip. Sarah noticed that Jareth's bowl was licked so clean, it looked to have come straight from the dishwasher.

Their laughter resounded at the same time, bursting spontaneously, as though they were two children who now had a shared secret joke.

"I think… I think I have more soup," Sarah commented through chuckles. "I can go heat it up…?"

The Goblin King nobly attempted to hide his inexplicable mirth behind the dignity of his signature smirk, but the amusement in his eyes could not be obscured.

"I think that might be wise," he replied.

Thus, Sarah broke into another can of soup, and the two demolished is only slightly less quickly than the first. This time, at least, they had time to look at each other and make remarks every now and then.

 _This is the first time we've ever eaten with each other,_ Sarah realized with a start.

Ten minutes later found a pair of bowls and spoons sitting in Sarah's sink, with her vow to wash them later hanging over them. Sated and feeling playful, Sarah stole into her sweets cabinet.

"Time for dessert!" Sarah could feel the Goblin King's eyes watching her, as though he could smell her devious desires.

In the cupboard, hidden behind a sheaf of taco seasoning packets as a ward against unwanted moochers, lay the prize which she sought - the jar of nutella. Only for use in the most serious of circumstances, her favorite mode of consumption was straight out of the jar via spoon. If she was feeling particularly indulgent, she wouldn't even bother with the spoon. Heaven.

She already had the lid off and was poised to attack before she caught an expectant-looking Jareth out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, you thought this was for you?" She asked coyly. Unconcerned, she reverently dipped her finger in the cove of sweet decadence. "What makes you think I'm sharing? This is _far_ too good for the likes of you."

"Indeed?" Questioned the Goblin King. He had leant himself against her kitchen counter, obviously not too torn up to be left out. Still, his air turned curious, especially after Sarah's expression turned rapturous as she licked the chocolate hazelnut spread from her finger.

Resistance was futile. Sarah's eyes closed of their own volition and she moaned in ecstasy. The spread smoothed over her tongue like velvet, coating and smothering her tastebuds with opulent sweetness. She savored her tongueful, licking her lips to recover any lost film of sugary goodness. She opened her eyes to take a second fingerful - it absolutely _begged_ to be eaten again - and found that the Goblin King was watching her with a very odd expression.

Sarah felt her face heat, realizing what this probably looked like. "What?" She asked defensively, deciding to play dumb. Jareth only smiled crookedly and began advancing like a cat stalking prey. She could practically see his tail waving behind him.

"How cruel of you, precious," he purred. Gently but firmly, he grasped the wrist of her hand that was stained with chocolaty goodness, tracing circles over the back of her hand. She felt herself being hypnotized, and couldn't seem to bring herself to protest. "That you would keep such a _delicacy_ all to yourself."

All she could do was stare, transfixed as first his tongue, then his pointed teeth, then his expressive lips grazed over her confectioned digit. Her eyes glazed over when he sucked ever-so-slightly, the heat growing in his gaze as much as it was in her stomach. Just as slowly and as tantalizingly as he had begun the whole process, he released her.

"Delicious." His voice practically sounded like a growl.

What happened next was a flurry of movement and hazy need. All Sarah knew that she was suddenly and ravenously kissing the Goblin King, moaning into his mouth that still tasted like the most divine kind of dessert she could imagine.

Hurriedly, she set the nutella on the counter to free both hands to attack the Goblin King's hair - still in its shorter style - and pull him closer. Glove clad hands slid under her shirt and splayed across her back, pressing her further into his chest. A clumsy shuffle backwards found her with her back against her kitchen wall. Instinctively, she hopped a little and wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, chuckling huskily when he almost stumbled before gripping her rear to hold her steady.

Feeling flushed and heated, she arched her back and struggled to wrestled her shirt from her body, tossing it carelessly. Jareth took the opportunity to begin lavishing her chest with attention, making Sarah's head loll back as her breathing became irregular.

"Perhaps," she panted. "We should relocate?"

Jareth merely hummed in agreement. Hours later, Sarah still wouldn't be able to remember if he whispered some kind of magic spell, but it seemed that they were in her bedroom, significantly less clothed, in the matter of seconds as opposed to minutes. In the current moment, however, Sarah hardly cared to keep track of where the time - much less her clothes - were going. She strained to feel more flesh on her flesh, battling for dominance and begging to be dominated. Pushing herself to give as much as she received, she peppered Jareth's skin with as many kisses and nips as he showered onto hers. She savored every moan from him, answering with her own as he lead her in a dance deeper than magic.

* * *

Roughly an hour later, Sarah was returning to normal after basking in her afterglow, she swung her legs over her bed to find a shirt. When her poor aged mattress squeaked alarmingly, shuddering beneath her, she froze and instinctively found Jareth's eyes and laughed incredulously.

"So," she started, pulling a shirt over her head in the process. It was roughly two sizes too big for her, and flowed with dramatic poetry. Definitely Jareth's. "Do you think _this -"_ she gestured to their rumpled state, " - will always happen in this room? Because if so, I should probably get a new mattress."

Jareth considered her, putting his hands behind his head in a show of complete unabashedness. "That depends, precious - would you like to change scenery?"

Sarah looked around her rather shabby, book-cluttered apartment, and stayed pointedly silent.

He smirked. "There is another mattress that I should think would suit you."

"Indeed?" She asked with an arched brow. After a moment, she nearly bit her lip. _I'm starting to sound like him. Lord help me._

Jareth didn't seem to notice - or care. Instead, he simply approached her and, without warning, let his magic slide over her skin. She gasped, reminded instantly of their recent activities, and was left wanting more when it faded far too quickly. When she came back to her senses, she was clothed in a nice but not overwhelming poet's shirt and flowing skirt, and Jareth had regained his outfit.

"Would you like to go there?" He murmured, suddenly very close. She had an inkling of what he was talking about, and knew the answer long before it left her lips.

"Yes. Very much."

He smiled slowly and allowed his arms to encircle her. As he pulled her close, his mouth lowered to her ear. "Brace yourself, precious."

She did as she was told this time, prepared for the searing alien sensation of transportation magic. The hot glass grazed over her nerves, the feeling of coming undone assaulted her - but it was somehow much more bearable this time. All she knew was that she couldn't wait to open her eyes. Giddy butterflies swarmed in her stomach.

As the magic trickled off down her spine, the first thing Sarah noticed as she gasped for breath was that the air was different. It was a little sweeter than she remembered it, and perhaps muskier too. She was so focused on gulping as much of it as possible into her lungs that she forgot to do anything else.

"Sarah, precious," Jareth's voice murmured close to her ear. "Open your eyes."

She did - and there is was. Sarah forgot how to breathe at all as she drank it in. It was the view from one of the tallest rooms in the castle, she could tell, because she could see for miles. The lush green of the garden maze, the bustling Goblin city, and all of the mysteries and stretches besides.

_I'm home._

"Welcome back, Sarah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenge of the Chapter: Because its been so terribly long since I've last updated, I've decided to let the readers choose what they want to see first in the next chapter! So, would you like to see it go the direction of:  
> 1) Sarah bonding with goblins in the Goblin City  
> 2)Time skip to Sarah working with her chemistry (w/ flashbacks to Goblin City)  
> OR  
> 3) introduction to new and unknown characters important to the plot?  
> LIMIT: One vote per person. Choose wisely! Can't wait until next time, m'dears!

**Author's Note:**

> Still not a smutfic. Never will be. If you've made it this far expecting it to be a smutfic, I apologize and advise you to invest your time elsewhere. :P There will be steaminess, chemistry, science, magic, and adventure though! Hope you stick around to enjoy the ride!


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